


Private Caller

by evildoughnut



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Scream (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Death, Bisexuality, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Danny is a creep with his camera, Dirty Talk, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, Gaslighting, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Phone Calls & Telephones, Psychological Horror, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Stalking, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, ghostface and legion are from the 90s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-10-12 13:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evildoughnut/pseuds/evildoughnut
Summary: Frank Morrison is starting to feel hopelessly bored with the routine of  the Entity's realm. Killing became a chore and there’s little to do with  his Legion between trials. One day, a stranger calls. He picks up,  unconscious of the discordance and evil that it would unleash upon him  and his friends.





	1. Finders Keepers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shorknado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/gifts).

Frank Morrison could kill for a cigarette and decided he would be doing just that. 

Really, it was the little things that he missed most of all. Sitting around on the curb, drinking beers and smoking cigarettes to pass the time before heading off to cause mischief. Throwing the empty bottles in the streets, the echoing sound of the shattering glass oddly satisfying. The carefree laughter that would accompany it, the juvenile hope that the litter would damage some careless driver’s tires. 

The memory seemed so distant now, it might have never happened at all.

Right now, he was groaning in pain, vision blurred and dizzied by the excruciating backlash of coming out of his frenzied state. His muscles spasm paralyzed his limbs and he had to catch his breath to recover, glancing up in hatred at the retreating figure of the survivor he just missed with his blade. It was some old man too; white hair and wrinkles and all. That some crusty fossil somehow out-maneuvered him made everything that much more irritating. Him running with incredible resilience, without needed to catch his breath, despite that lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Frank was going to get that old bastard and take his smokes if it’s the last thing he did. 

It wasn’t a great idea to get tunnel vision like this when he was out on trials. It was best to spread out, slash at as many as he could along the way. Get them bleeding and get them distracted away from their repairs. 

Frank was always great at doing what he wanted, not what he should. What he wanted was smoke filling his lungs so that he could remember the taste of petty rebellion he took for granted before his descent into the fog. 

Nimble as always, he slid over the pallet the old man fruitlessly dropped down as a means to slow him down. The blade connected, it’s filthy jagged teeth ripped into his back as he heard the pop of a generator into the distance. No matter; he wiped the blade on his equally filthy jacket and kept running. The grunts of pain and blood were laughingly easy to follow and it didn’t take long for that final jab to take him down.

The veteran led him far away from any hooks and the final generator was now completed. There was a ghost of a smile of his worn face that Frank made quick work of erasing with a boot to the jaw. The previously lit cigarette had fallen out of his mouth from the impact, the burning tip fizzling out. 

It was always a feral thing when Frank killed them, his blade slashing wildly, stabbing into their flesh and tendons to drag them nearer as they tried to scramble away. He was barely mindful when he straddled his victim to plunge the hunting knife deep into his chest and slit the man open like a fruit. It was all raw killing instinct and compulsion. 

Panting lightly, he remained seated on his waist, admiring his handy work. He paid no mind to the other survivors, who were most likely making their way out the opened exit gates, in favor of searching his pockets. He patted down the ruined corpse until he finally felt the outline of a crushed pack on his chest. He pulled it out of the breast pocket victoriously and glanced down at his prize. 

He must have been overzealous in his attack, as always, because the thing was slashed. That wouldn’t have been so bad except that the blood soaked through and made the tobacco unusable. 

Of fucking course. 

Annoyed, he bitterly crushed the pack and threw it on the ground next to the dead man and got up to leave, teeth gritted. He ignored the eerie whispers telling him to do better next time. 

…

When he grumpily kicked open the heavy, snow-whitened door of Mount Ormond’s lodge, Frank wasn’t expecting to find all three of his friends lounging around. It was actually surprisingly sporadic for all of them to be present, despite their living arrangement. Some would be called to the hunting grounds, or others would occasionally be loitering away by themselves in the quarters of the building they’ve appointed as their own. 

Joey called out to him from his spot of the raggedy couch, enthusiastic as always to see him. It was almost endearing, how captivated he was by his mere presence, even after all this time. “Franky boy! Killed ‘em all?” 

Julie was sitting in a nearby armchair and languidly glanced over at Frank, not nearly as enraptured by his arrival as Joey had been. She practically rolled her eyes at his eagerness and it made Susie snicker but she too looked over to the door, keen gaze on their leader. 

The latter shrugged his shoulders flippantly at the question, making his way closer to the fire and dropped his bloodied mask on the adjacent table. “Yeah, no. Three got away.”

Joey frowned a bit with empathy. They all knew first hand the sentiment of a poor performance in the Entity’s cruel game. “Shit, sorry.”

Frank threw a glower in his direction and shook his head, aggravated at the pity he never asked for and deflected swiftly. “I don’t give a fuck. I wasn’t _really_ trying to get them.”

The tattooed young man twirled his soiled knife idly in his hand before gesturing with it as he spoke. “These hunts, it’s always the same shit over and over…” He paused meaningfully. “…So lets make it interesting.”

It was a lovely sight, the three pairs of eyes staring up expectedly as him as he spoke, eagerly waiting for him to elaborate. Like he was their shepherd.

He continued, pleased to have their undivided attention now. “There’s this old man who’s always smoking, you guys know the one.” 

They all nodded. There weren’t that many victims, always the same dozen or some, reconditioned back for more killing. 

He leered mischievously. “Next time you see him, get me his pack of smokes. I got ‘em off him but they were soaked in blood.”

Julie nodded softly, a smile grazing her pretty face at the challenge. “Sounds fun to me.” She then pursed her lips at him. “Who says I’ll share with you?”

He sighed and put a hand over his heart, as if wounded. “Ju, baby. Don’t be like that.” 

Frank slipped over the backrest of the couch, landing flush besides the boy already seated there and draped his arms around his shoulders. He smirked and patted his chest with his other hand. “Be more like Joey here; a loyal goon that’s going to get me some damn smokes.”

The latter hummed in his embrace, seeming to deliberate before replying with a dismissive shrug. “Nah, Ju’s got the right idea. Finders keepers.”

Frank tsked and shoved him roughly, drawing a playful outraged sound out of the other boy as he inadvertently fell on his side. “Fuck all of you. Susie’s got my back.”

The pink-haired girl had been watching them quietly, fingers idly twirling the loose threads of her sweater. She often seemed absent minded as of late, but now that Frank addressed her directly, she perked up. With a finger on her chin, she scratched it in mock thought. “I don’t know, Frank. Cigarettes are bad for your health.” 

Frank leaned over in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and tilted his head at her before cooing. “Suz, I know you’re joking, but I swear I’m going to smack the braces right out of your mouth.” 

Susie huffed and covered her mouth, muttering vaguely for him to shut up. Laughter erupted out of the other two and Frank beamed at them. He loved making them laugh like that. It had always been easy for him, since the simpler days at Julie’s house parties, when they would flock around him like moths to the flame.

The three teased and talked big, but Frank knew that they would do exactly what he asked. They always did. He had a way to make them want to make him happy. To want to impress him. 

Besides, he felt it in them too, this dilapidating boredom they all shared. Well, calling what was wrong mere boredom would be downplaying it drastically.

No one really talked about it, but it always ominously hung in the air. Insistently. 

They were trapped. 

Idle talks and jokes were a weak veil from the gloomy fate they all shared. 

The killings were thrilling at first, for Frank at least, but it quickly became a chore rather than a way to pass the time. There was nowhere for them to go outside of the trials; not really. The Entity’s mysterious fog engulfed all in an endless night and venturing out too far only brought them to realms belonging to other unfortunate souls like them. 

Well, not _quite_ like them. 

Most were much more horrific. 

Frank had considered causing trouble, taking out his legion to vandalize and steal like they used to do back home. He went out on his own, feeling curious, and ventured to a seemingly abandoned asylum. He heard the uncanny screech of the Nurse only once, but he still got chills thinking about it. As if the sound wasn’t blood curdling enough, he caught sight of her from afar. 

Her neck was bent unnaturally, her body floating eerily off the ground as she loosely grasped a rusty bone saw. Her face covered by an eyeless bloodied bag, yet she turned her head in his direction, as if she didn’t need her sight at all. 

He wasn’t a coward, but there was something sobering about realizing he was imprisoned with paranormal beings that seemed pulled out of horror films. It wasn’t just the all-powerful eldritch monstrosity; as if that weren’t unsettling enough. 

The young man stayed put in Ormond between trials ever since. 

With all this considered, leading his Legion on a little side quest would do them some good and, most of all, he would get what he wanted out of it.

Yet, deep in his gut, there was this icy dread that as soon as he would get the cigarettes, things would go back to the grim routine of this eternal limbo. 

That he would inhale the smoke and feel absolutely nothing. 

That he would put it out and not have a single thing to look forward to doing after. 

…

Frank’s hunt was a lot more successfully this time around and thus the whispers of the Entity weren’t spurning him as loudly. He got to enjoy the short walk back to the lodge in that unnatural quietness that plagued the eternal winter night. Somehow, the silence made it worse. He wished he had brought his Walkman with him. The loud percussions would be distracting him from just how unnaturally still the mock Ormond was. 

It was the sound of rattling plastic scraping on the cold ground in the otherwise perfectly quiet night that caught his attention. Puzzled, he glanced down to see what it was. Seemed he kicked something as he walked and he crouched down to inspect it. The black plastic casing coupled with antennae was pretty telltale, but he still picked it up and flipped it open. He ran his filthy thumb over the dial pad with a little curious hum. 

It was a cellphone. 

He hadn’t seen that many around, especially not in Ormond. Although they were getting more and more popular, it still seemed more like a big city, pompous businessman type of luxury item. Good luck getting decent signal in a small mountain town. He did not understand how something like this could have gotten lost in their realm, of all places. 

Frank entered the lodge holding his new find and glimpsed around the empty lobby. The flickering flames were the only sign of life; seemed he was on his own. Had any members of his legion been around, perhaps he would have shared the mysterious discovery with them. Discussed the implication of what having a phone could mean for them. 

Someone like Susie probably would have liked to try calling her parents. Probably would have been crushed to realize it was impossible, despite how obvious that ought to be. 

Frank flopped down on the couch, glad to be able to take his time to inspect the thing without being bothered by the others. He playfully pressed on a couple of buttons, watching the number appear on the small screen. This meant that it was at least partially functional, which was a good sign. He wondered if he ought to try to make a call. He then realized that there wasn’t a single person he cared enough about to reach. Besides, they were in the Entity’s clutches; no escape and no signal. 

The unexpected chime of the ringing phone in his hands shattering the silence startled him to the point of almost dropping the thing. 

When he had inspected the cell, he didn’t see any signal bars and now, inexplicably, a call was coming through. The red LED on the black screen read ‘Private Number’. 

He stared dumbly at phone in his hands as it rang a second time. 

Then a third time. 

As bizarre as this was, Frank’s curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear and answered before the fourth ring. “Hello?”

There was a bit of static at the end of the line and some indistinct shuffling sound. After a few seconds of disturbance, a voice finally responded. “Hello?”

This exchange over a phone was so incredibly mundane, so incredibly resembling of the normality of the world before the fog that Frank had a hard time believing it was actually happening. The voice sounded different than his, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find it was just his echo over dead air. 

Still, he responded, in the off chance of an actual answer. “Yeah?”

The reply was almost immediate. The masculine, smooth voice inquisitive. “Who’s this?”

Frank blinked, stupefied. Well, this was unexpected. 

Perhaps reasonable people would have introduced themselves in this instance.

Truth of the matter was that Frank Morrison was innately provocative at best and simply unpleasant at worst. He certainly was not about to comply for some stranger over the phone, no matter the odd circumstance. 

His quip came easily, his tone mocking and confrontational. “You’re the one that called, asshole. Who the hell are _you_?”

The voice answered just as nippily, without faltering. “I asked first.”

Frank snorted in disbelief. As if this was a negotiation. This guy obviously didn’t know whom he was dealing with. “Fuck off.” 

Rashly, he hung up and threw the cell on the table. 

The youth sat on the couch with his arms crossed and stared at the now silent phone with a frown. Almost immediately, he realized that perhaps he had been too impulsive in hanging up. Now that the call was over, he had many other questions he would probably never get the answer to. 

Eh, oh well.

Almost as soon as he made his peace, the phone started ringing again. He stared at it disbelievingly for a moment or two before picking it back up.

He was thankful to have the bothersome stranger call back, simply out of entertainment value, but he wasn’t going to betray that in his tone. He tried to sound as bored and hostile as he could. “What?” 

The stranger must have been upset.

“That wasn’t very nice.” There was a razor sharp harshness to his tenor that was a stark contrast to how he had originally answered. Almost sounded like a completely different man. There was a pause before the voice added, accusingly. “You have my phone.”

Frank smirked, unfazed by the other’s crossness. That’s what this was about? Well, he supposed that made sense. The cellular device certainly did not belong to him or his crew. Well, until now that was. There was no chance he was about to relinquish his new toy. 

He shrugged and replied in a cheeky tone, aiming to piss him off even more. “Finders keepers.”

The young man heard breathing over the line but nothing else. Had the stranger given up already? 

Just as he was starting to find the stretch of uncomfortable silence bordering on creepy, the deep voice murmured ominously. “Maybe I should come get it?”

Frank frowned and spoke in a slightly lower octave himself, tone laced with threat, to make sure the other understood he wasn’t one to be messed with. “Your funeral.”

There was a light chuckle at the end of the line, the ominous tone becoming teasing. “Hm, you’re kind of scary.” The suave voice practically purred. “I like that.”

This was not exactly the response Frank had been expecting and he was at a loss for words for a short moment. 

The stranger took the silence as an opportunity to continue in that same, slimy voice. “Do _you_ like being scared?”

Frank wasn’t sure how to feel about the turn the conversation took. Was this freak trying to make him uneasy? Was this a pathetic attempt at frightening him, or more awkwardly yet, flirt with him? 

Still, he could play along. He grinned wolfishly and fished out of his pocket his bloodied knife, still coated with fresh gore from the trial, twirling the thing in his hand. “I do most of the scaring, you feel me?”

There was another drawn out pause before the voice breathed out. “Yeah, I feel you.” 

Frank was just about done, so he spoke in an obviously sarcastically cheerful tone. “Good.” He finished flatly. “Bye, weirdo.” 

He was about to flip the cellphone close but he heard the voice call out after him stridently. 

“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up!” 

He brought the phone back to his ear, curious to hear what the other could possibly have to say now. 

The stranger’s voice was calmed anew. “I changed my mind. You can keep it.”

Frank snorted a bit, genuinely impressed at the nerve this guy had. “It’s cute that you think you had a say, but whatever.” 

There was another chuckle on the end of the line, a bit heartier this time. “You’re funny. I think I’d like to talk again.” He drawled out with a bit of a forlorn sigh. “It gets so boring, here.”

The voice perked up, sounding deep and smooth again. Almost playful. “Catch you later.” 

Before Frank could say anything, the stranger hung up. 

The young man sat there, staring at the now quiet device, and took a moment to digest what had just happened, only briefly questioning whether if it had really occurred at all. 

He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and leaned back, kicking up his wet boots on the table. He had both hands in his pockets, one touching his knife and the other casually holding the cell and was replaying the whole bizarre conversation in his head. 

The quality of the stranger’s voice, those vague threats and vaguer flirting; it stirred something in him. He wouldn’t be able to explain what, but it was oddly stimulating. 

After all, it did get boring here, didn’t it?

This, whatever it was, it could be fun. 

It could be something he got to have. Something that just belonged to him. 

Shortly after, when Joey came back from his trial and sat besides him, asking him casually what was new, Frank said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in for one hell of a ride, my friends.  
The rating will change to explicit down the line, but we're not at the smut yet. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying it so far.  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!


	2. Do you have a girlfriend?

Frank Morrison would tire of the sound of his own mix tape after a while and he sometimes borrowed one of his friend’s instead. His usual loud synth percussions were excellent and it got his blood pumping, nonetheless, anyone’s favorite thing would become nauseating when exposed to it too often. He could not afford to grow to hate his music. He seriously doubted the Entity would release an album for him any time soon. 

He opted for Julie’s beats. She was currently away on a trial so she certainly wouldn’t miss it. He honestly wouldn’t really care even if she did. 

The girl was really into that heavy, brooding grunge scene and he had to admit he could get behind it sometimes. They spend some good times listening to it together, complaining about how awful their lives were. He wasn’t feeling particularly nostalgic or angst ridden but it would do.

Anything to drown out the irritating sound of Susie’s blade scratching restlessly on the wooden reading table in the main lounge. The pink-haired girl was sitting on the floor, head down and drawing nonsensical patterns with her weapon. She had always been a bit anxious and therefore already had annoying ticks like this but it noticeably worsened in the fog. He was tempted to throw something at her yet graciously opted to be nice and put on headphones instead. 

Joey was loafing nearby as well, absently tossing a bloodied smiley face pin in the air and catching it out of pure idleness. If Susie’s scraping was bothering him, he made no show of it. Probably didn’t even mind. That boy was too blithe for his own good. 

It was the cold wind seeping in through the open door that alerted Frank of Julie’s return, the music much too loud for him to hear her enter. He glanced in her direction nonchalantly, taking the headphones off his ears. He was about to proclaim that Layne Staley sounded like nails on a chalkboard, just to get a rise out of her, but stopped short when she pulled out a crumbled up and bloodstained cigarette pack from her pocket. 

Without saying a word, Julie took off her mask and smirked cockily at them, smugness radiating off her pretty face. 

Susie squealed excitedly, jumping to her feet and gushing about how amazing she was. Claiming she knew she’d be the one to pull it off. 

Joey adamantly insisted that he would have been the one to win the challenge if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t run into the old man at all during his trials. 

Frank just grinned and walked up to her, reaching for the prize only to have her stop him brusquely with a firm hand to his chest, keeping him at arm’s length.

“Fuck off, Morrison.” She sneered in her self-assured and teasing way and raddled the cardboard box, displaying how near empty it was. “There’s only two. One for me, one for Susie.”

Susie was obviously in agreement with that plan, throwing her hands up in the air with childish exuberance. “Yay!”

Contrastingly, Joey looked so risibly crushed, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “Ju, you cold-hearted bitch.”

Frank simply held his hands up to her, as if in surrendering, before shrugging casually and walking back to the fireplace. He patted his friend’s shoulder once on the way there. “Don’t worry, man. Ju’s just messing around.” 

He pulled out her mix tape from his Walkman, making sure the label she handwritten herself was in plain sight, before shaking it playfully close to the fire. He looked over his shoulder at her with a devious smirk. “Aren’t you, Ju?”

She gasped before narrowing her eyes dangerously, pulling out her blood-soiled blade and pointing it towards him. “Frank, you know I would literally cut off your balls, right?” 

Frank just shrugged again, his smile only growing wider and meaner. “Won’t bring Nirvana back from the ashes, babe.” 

Julie sighed, conceding with an eye roll. “Here, you guys can share.” She chucked one of the cigarettes at Joey, the thing bouncing off his chest and landing straight into his waiting hands. Frank threw the hostage mix tape towards her in exchange before glancing over to the other boy who just shrugged with a smile. This was definitely a decent compromise. 

Once the cigarettes were lit from the flames of the ever-burning fire pit, the two boys sat on the couch near each other to simplify passing the smoke. The girls shared one of the large plush armchairs for the same reason; Julie in the seat and Susie perched on the armrest. 

Inhaling the smoke after all this time should have left Frank light-headed. The nicotine’s effect became even more poignant once you’ve lost the habit. Truth was, he felt nothing at all. He was certain it was the same for his friends although no one brought it up. It was the act of it that felt good, after all. 

It was nostalgic and pleasant, all four of them, smoking and loitering in the resort. 

The Entity couldn’t take that away, at least. 

On a whim, taking advantage of their proximity, Frank allowed his fingers to brush against Joey’s dark ones just a little too long while he reached for the burning stick. He acted casually, as if nothing, lifting the cigarette to his lips and took a drag without even glancing over. He didn’t need to look. He already knew how flustered it made Joey, who painstakingly tried to act natural and focus on Julie’s words as she described her trial. 

The tattooed youth would sometimes discreetly do little acts like this. Sporadically. Always seemingly unintentional. He’d press their thighs together when they sat close, or let his hand linger on his shoulder. He wanted to keep the poor boy on edge simply because he found it amusing. 

Teasing him so was laughably easy, ever since that one time in his room. They didn’t speak about that, though. 

Casual talk amongst the teens soon drifted to the subject of the survivors they faced almost daily, spurned by Julie’s description of her last hunt and the unfortunate man she stole from.

She went on, always particularly apt at bad mouthing others for entertainment, a trait she excelled at in school. “That old man is so fucking gross. It’s just so annoying how resilient he is. Seriously, just stay down and die already.” 

Susie peeped up, biting her bottom lip and tucking some of her pink mane behind her ear. “Some of them are kind of cute, though.” She twiddled her fingers together a bit before quietly adding. “… Like that guy with the tuque and the skinny jeans.”

The room became awkwardly silent as the three others turned their gaze towards her. 

Joey suddenly broke the silence, practically screaming in disbelief and laughter. “That goblin-looking dude?!” He picked up a nearby cushion and chucked it at her, laughing even more as it bounced off her head. “Suz, get the hell out of here with that shit!”

Frank joined in the bantering immediately, cackling just as hard as his companion. “Suz’s got a thing for ugly boys or what?” 

“Shut up!” The poor girl sputtered, clearly mortified, her face alight with a bright blush that matched the pinkness of her hair. She was visibly regretting having brought up the subject but was unwilling to back down now that she had. “What the hell are you even… He does _not_ look like a goblin.”

Her best friend was giggling as well, though not as loudly as the boys, perhaps to save her feelings. She tapped her chin lightly, as if considering the other girl’s point. “I know the one, Suz. It’s like, in certain lights he’s kind of cute…” She finished meanly. “…but then I look at him again and he looks like a crackhead or something.”

As loudly as Joey had been mocking his fellow Legion for finding one of their victims to her taste, he offered with suspicious eagerness. “You want to talk cute? There’s that hot blonde chick with the tattoos.” 

Julie groaned at him, nose scrunched up in disgust. “Typical.”

The dark-skinned youth snorted, raising his hands up in mock inquiry. “Oh, I’m sorry Ju, am I _not_ supposed to find the hot chick hot?” He looked to Frank, hoping to have the other male back him up.

However, Frank didn’t comment on that side note for he was not done with Susie just yet. With his attention on her, he continued with a smirk. “I thought maybe you’d be into that shirtless muscle-head, or something. Not some methhead looking kid.” 

Apparently, muscular rugby athletes turned street fighters were not her type, for she exclaimed in revulsion. “Ew, no!”

Susie shook her head with a frown and continued defensively. “You guys don’t get it.” She began nervously toying with the frayed sleeves of her ratty hoodie, her voice dropping bashfully. “I think that maybe we’d have a lot of things in common. He just looks like someone we could have hung out with, you know?”

The older boy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, astounded that she could actually believe such an insipidly naïve notion. He scoffed before mockingly countering. “When did you figure all that?” He tilted his head at her, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Between stab wounds? Or did you take time to stare lovingly into his eyes while he’s screaming on the hook?”

The hapless girl's face twisted into hurt, as if she were physically wounded by the words. Her expression wasn’t the only thing affected. A sullen heaviness presently hung in the air. 

The laughter and had died off entirely. 

Julie remained uncharacteristically silent while Joey, clearly beginning to feel uncomfortable, rubbed the back of his neck. 

With a lot more kindness than Frank had shown, he offered quietly. “It’d be a little weird, right?” He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood, but still sounded serious. “Like, how would you even know he’s into you and not just pretending to get mercy during trials?”

Susie shrugged lamely and gazed down, avoiding their eyes because surely she was seeing the flaws in her logic yet didn’t want to relent. She uttered meekly, words barely audible. “Maybe he’d understand that I’m not hurting him because I want to.” 

This only aggravated Frank further. When she said things like this, about how she didn’t want to kill anyone, it just reminded him of her crying and begging them to stop while they stabbed that janitor. It had been the first time that she didn’t follow him blindly. 

He had to be harsh with her then. Seemed he needed do it again now.

Frank glowered piercingly at her “We’re killers, Suz.” His tone was sharp and brutal. “It’s about fucking time you stopped living in your fantasy world.”

She practically winced then and gripped handfuls of her pink hair, pulling anxiously at the scalp. She looked up at him, heatedly, but tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “I _know_ that.” She spat out, voice cracking. “I have enough with those goddamn voices in my head reminding me, I don’t need you to do it too.”

Julie finally spoke with an icy and stern tone. “Lay off, Frank.” 

Frank turned his head in her direction, about to retort, but the look on her face made him pause. There was a stony and indescribable wrath in her eyes combined with a strange harshness on her features he wasn’t sure how to interpret. He had said and did much worse in the past. Hell, she had been pissed at him before and was very open about it. Never looked quite like that, though. 

Her peculiar glare lasted but a moment, for now she was wrapping her arm around the smaller girl who had began to cry quietly. 

Joey stayed quiet by his side, hands joined together, looking down at the floor.

Why were they acting like he was wrong? 

With a scowl, he rudely flicked the near finished burning cigarette butt at the girls and got up to leave. 

…

Once again, things fell back into a dreadfully dull routine for the members of the Legion and Frank Morrison really needed something to happen soon. 

During the truly stagnant moments such as this, he would think about that bizarre phone conversation. 

It felt as if a good while had passed since the mysterious stranger’s call and Frank was beginning to wonder if the cellphone would ever ring again. He had hidden it beneath his pillow and checked the thing ever so often, mainly to see if there was a missed call or if the battery had finally died. 

Like many other unexplainable things in this world, the battery never faltered but sadly there were no other signs of life from it either.

How long it had actually been was impossible to tell. There was no tangible way for him to measure how much time had elapsed. Eternal night meant no sunrise to count the days. There was a clock in the lodge but it never ticked; it’s needles frozen in place like the frigid snow outside. 

Inspired by movies and urged by his vandal tendencies, Frank had decided early in his arrival into the fog to carve lines into the wood of a support beam in his room. Whenever he came back from a trial, he would take out his bloodied knife and add a new mark, separating them in units of five with a diagonal carving across. This didn’t tell time, per se, but it was a way to gage _something_. 

One day, he tried to count them all. There was a churn in his stomach when he realized that the wood must have been morphing in his absence. The lines somehow seemed scattered and uneven. Counting them was as dizzying and impossible as telling the time on an alarm clock in a dream. 

He stopped bothering. 

Just like he stopped bothering to check if there was a missed call. 

Perhaps this was why his heart hammered so loudly in his chest when he suddenly heard the faint chime through the pillow he had been resting on. 

He was bored and alone at the time it rang, lying on the dusty mattress with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling in a world that didn’t allow sleep. There was not one member of his Legion around to kill time with and no trials to spend his pent up energy on. 

Obviously this was why he was so eager to answer the phone, he told himself, certainly not because he wanted to hear from the creep again. 

The youth bolted in a seated position and quickly grabbed the cell, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear. Despite his rush to answer, he was certain he still sounded cool and detached. “Hello?”

This was apparently not the case for there was a slight chuckle at the end of the line in response to his greeting. The smooth voice sounded amused, speaking low and teasingly. “Did you miss me?”

Frank felt indignation shoot through him and his cheeks burned despite himself. He was almost tempted to hang up just to prove this guy wrong. Almost. He scoffed with disdain instead and deflected. “How full of yourself are you, asshole?”

The man on the phone didn’t even seem to acknowledge his insult or petulance; rather he changed his tone and resumed in an oddly candid manner. “My name is Danny. What’s yours?”

The sudden introduction unsettled Frank. He had not expected the stranger to tell him his name so willingly based on the cryptic quality of their last conversation. 

Recovering quickly, he shook his head in disbelief and sniggered, sounding jeering in turn. “Wow, just like that, huh? I thought you’d try to be a little more … _mysterious_.”

The other sounded a tad disappointed at that, much to Frank’s delight. “Oh dear, did I spoil the fun?” There was a short beat of silence before he suggested playfully. “How about we make it a game?”

There was a bit of a singsong quality to his voice as he went on, explaining the rules of said game. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you something about me.” His voice dropped a couple of octaves as he added. “You can ask anything you want. Deal?”

The young man wanted to roll his eyes at the lame attempt at enticing him into revealing information. It was so transparent. Still, he had to admit he had many questions and this was a decent opportunity to get some answers. What harm could there be in telling him a little bit about himself? It’s not like a name meant anything in the fog anymore. 

So, he yielded. “Frank.”

He could hear the glee in Danny’s voice, ecstatic at having him play along. Almost savoring the sound of his given name as he spoke it. “What would you like to know, Frank?” 

That was a good question. 

Frank supposed he should probably start with the obvious. 

He leaned back down on the bed, with his free hand propped behind his head and asked offhandedly. “What’s your deal? Are you a killer or something?”

There was a quiet amusement at his question. “Yeah, I’m a killer, same as you.” He paused a bit before he added. “They call me The Ghost Face.” 

The youth suspected as much. There was no way he was speaking with a survivor and it was even more impossible that it was someone from the real world. He had only seen a handful of other killers and couldn’t recall one that would match the nickname ‘ghost face’. 

Still, always the bully, Frank latched on the opportunity to mock him. “Ghostface killer, seriously? Real scary. You a Wu-Tang fan, or something?” 

The voice on the line didn’t seem to take offense; he laughed softly at the teasing before humming out innocuously. “Not as cute as Legion, I know.”

The taunting grin on Frank’s face fell instantly and he sat up again. His shoulders stiffened and his hand traveled to his pocket for his knife automatically. He growled out, incredulous and guarded. “How the fuck did you know that? I never told you our killer name.”

Danny sounded humorous still, but there was an inkling of real irk in his voice that gave off a sharp and menacing air to his words. “Frank, that’s _not_ how the game goes. It’s not your turn to ask something.”

This only infuriated Frank further, and just as he was about to insist that he wasn’t playing around, the other killer sighed permissively and continued. “I guess I can let it slide this once …” 

Ghostface’s words were flowing easily, voice soothingly pacifying. Reasonable. “I’ve seen you guys around between trials, that’s all. It’s a small world in the fog, Frank. I heard it through the whispers.” 

That … actually made sense. 

Frank himself took notice of some other killers the few times he ventured out and they must have done the same. Hell, there was even one that came knocking on their door. He was a huge, beastly-looking man with a grinning mask and metal stabbed in his flesh. He’d briefly and sternly introduced them to the world they now inhabited. He said he was Evan Mac-something, or The Trapper. The latter name was much easier to remember. 

Not that Frank cared. 

The big guy seemed to be all work and no play. 

It all felt like a long time ago, now. 

Danny must have understood from his silence that his justification was accepted. He continued with his earlier liveliness, as if nothing had happened at all. “So, _Legion_, how many people have you killed before coming here?”

The question brought Frank out of his musings and had him reminiscing about that faithful night in Ormond instead. 

His first victim. 

Legion’s first victim.

He remembered the chaos and the screams. The panicked ones from his friends and the agonized ones from the janitor.

How hard that man fell, once they stabbed the life out of him.

He shrugged a bit, nonchalantly, as if taking a life was trivial. “Just the one guy.” He grinned wolfishly as he envisioned the scene again, gripping his knife and absently jabbing the air with it. “Stabbed the fucker to death.” 

“Hm, is that all?” Danny seemed unimpressed by that figure and let out a sigh before he added. “Got to start somewhere, I guess.” 

The idea of being taken lightly actually bothered Frank more than he would have liked it to. With a frown, he opened his mouth, about to retort but the other cut him off with another inquiry.

Ghostface’s voice had a low, almost purring quality to it. “Did you like it?

Frank thought about the thrilling tremors that shook his body as he felt the knife plunge in the unsuspecting man’s back. No other impulsive misdeed he had ever done before felt has climactic as that. 

He felt goose bumps crawling across his flesh and wasn’t sure if it was from the memory or from that whispering voice. 

The youth murmured. “Yeah, I did.” 

Upon hearing the hitch of breath on the other end of the line, he caught himself and, using Danny’s earlier reasoning against him, retorted abruptly. “But that’s not how this game goes, remember? It’s my turn to ask you something.”

He wanted to change the subject and regain his composure. Things got a little too … weird. “Aside from killing people, what did you do?”

Danny seemed all too eager to talk about himself. “I was a freelance reporter. Interviews, writing articles, some photography... You get the gist. ” His tone morphed somewhat, going from wholesomely chipper to eerie in his enthusiasm. “My best work was footage of the gruesome murders of a notorious and seemingly uncatchable serial killer...”

It was undoubtedly his own crimes he was referring to, in a not-so-subtle humble brag. The narcissism was bleeding through, in both his pride in his profession and the brutality of his slayings. 

Still, Frank was willing to indulge him. With a little smirk, he ventured. “Wait, let me guess, it was _your_ murders.”

Ghostface seemed glad with the deduction and he praised. “Oh! You’re so clever.” You could almost hear the sneer in his voice as he added darkly. “Much more than they were.”

Frank rolled his eyes at the undeserved flattery. He didn’t need to be smart to figure out what Danny had been implying. 

Although, it meant that this guy killed off people and wrote articles about it? Seemed pretty gruesome and self-indulgent. The idea was incredibly farfetched, like something out of a comic book. Like a twisted take on the tired trope of a superhero’s civilian alter ego reporting on his own feats. 

The comparison made him snicker despite the morbid subject matter and he teased. “What are you, Peter fucking Parker?”

The other killer let out a pleased hum and added playfully. “And you’re funny too. My turn now.” He shot lout, straightforwardly. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Frank had expected this question. Danny was not very subtle when it came to his downright creepy undertones, even during their first conversation. Still, when faced with it, he found himself unsure how to answer. 

He shrugged a bit, absently rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really…” 

There was a time that the answer would have been ‘Yeah, her name’s Julie’. However, things had already begun to change into indefinable territories soon after they began seeing each other outside of parties. When they really became a foursome with Joey and Susie. When they would spend all their free time wreaking havoc as Legion. They’d never actually made anything official; dating seemed like such an enforced social norm and he wasn’t about that. 

Things only got murkier once they descended into the fog. Whatever intimacy they had seemed to cool irreparably. It was all so gradual, too. He didn’t even mind. 

Frank finished with. “It’s complicated.” 

The other man seemed satisfied with the vague reply. “Ah, I see. Lucky me.” 

The youth decided it was about time he called him out, so he began with false sweetness. “So, Danny … Are you a goddamned pervert or something?” He grinned as he continued, harshly. Viciously. “Or just a fucking fag?”

The homophobic slur was meant to distraught. It would have worked on Frank. Made him defensive, violently so, in fact. Especially since the notion of this strange man coming on to him wasn’t repulsing him. 

Quite the opposite. 

He was greatly disappointed when he saw that it didn’t work.

Ghostface just tittered and mirrored his earlier words, smoothly. “It’s complicated…” 

There was a short but disquieting silence on the line. It made the young man press his ear against the phone a bit more, to make sure the other was still there. 

He was for he could hear breathing. 

Then, he heard a single chuckle. 

Danny’s voice had that low, foreboding quality to it. Penetrating despite being barely above a whisper. “I’m a bad man, Frank.” 

There was something about the way he said it that made Frank understand that it was genuine. This individual, despite his suave voice and his playfulness, was in actuality a very depraved man. 

Had Frank Morrison had a single sensible bone in his body, he would have been worried. Instead there was something akin to excitement that budded inside him at the thought. Shivers crawled up his spine and there grew a warm, tingling sensation deep in his gut. The danger thrilled him. 

Besides, he could handle himself. 

Frank was no angel. 

He was a smart-ass, though. 

So, he deadpanned. “Right. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ on both count.” 

Danny guffawed, seemingly genuinely amused before adding sheepishly, his tone much less threatening now. “What can I say, I think I _like_ you.” 

The youth couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. “You don’t even know me.”

The other lowered his voice in a complicit manner, as if he was uttering a confession of sorts. “Oh, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

Frank chortled at that unapologetically. Was this guy for real with those corny lines? He was about to crudely tell him off but Danny spoke first.

“Got to go now. Duty calls. Those survivors aren’t going to kill themselves…” 

“Just one last question before I go.” There was the quiet sound of swooshing and the almost inaudible squeak of leather coming from the end of the line before Danny asked nosily. “Did you tell your friends about me?”

He frowned at the question, once again feeling guarded and wary. He considered lying to him but opted against it last minute. “Haven’t gotten around to it yet.” With narrowed eyes, he asked none too kindly. “What’s it to you?”

You could almost hear the smile in Ghostface’s voice. “So, I’m your little secret?” He practically purred. “I like that.”

Frank snorted, feeling less cagey with that flirtatious response. “You fucking would, perv.”

Danny hummed before adding innocently. “Makes you wonder …” 

The young man knew he was being baited yet couldn’t help but bite. “What?”

He finished, emphatically. “What secrets they’re keeping from you.” 

Before Frank could ask him what he meant by that, or confront him about the audacity to infer that his Legion were anything but loyal to him, Ghostface hung up. 

Frank stared at the now quiet device in his hands with a frown before angrily chucking it at the foot of his bed. He sat there, glaring at it, absently twirling his knife in his hands. Trying to calm down because those words shouldn’t even faze him. 

The guy clearly had no idea what he was talking about. 

Ghostface knew nothing about him or his Legion. He just needed to brush it off as the ramblings of some asshole that thought he was being funny. 

Nonetheless, now that he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but recall the expression on Julie’s face the other day, when she defended Susie. 

It seemed so cold and _foreign_, somehow. 

She’d never looked at him like that before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Franky boy, ignoring so many red flags.  
Let's see how that works out for him.
> 
> Also: I seriously can't wait for that Quentin face rework. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!


	3. Varsity Jacket

Frank Morrison had already finished picking out the crusted blood that was caked underneath his filthy fingernails from his last trial. Disgusting, yes, but no one was around at the moment to judge him. Not that it would have stopped him. Besides, those who would be in a position to witness were also gore-stained the majority of the time. He was currently mindlessly stabbing the arm of the dusty couch he was lounging on out of lack of anything better to do with the blade and his time. While destroying the furniture, he absently wondered how long it would take for The Entity to mend it.

That was only a fleeting thought; his mind was mainly occupied by the strange moodiness that Julie was afflicted with recently. The change was subtle. If all members of Legion were spending time together, she’d laugh and chat like she always did. It was only when they were alone that things seemed off. Their conversations didn’t have that carefree ease and complicity it used to have.

As a matter of fact, it almost seemed as though she didn’t want to hang out with just him anymore. The girl hadn’t said anything about it and he hadn’t asked. He only really noticed because he would occasionally see her, from the top of the stairs, alone with Susie, or with Joe, her voice ushered. 

She did not do that with him, though. 

None of that would have bothered him before but what Ghostface said to him the other day left him feeling apprehensive despite himself. 

Frank’s boredom and suspicion was mercifully interrupted by Joey’s return from his trial. The latter quickly spotted him on the couch and headed over with pep in his step. This was rather unusual considering the mental and physical toll their feral frenzy took on them. The youth hopped over the back of the couch and landed beside him, eager over God knows what. He even peeked around, as if making sure they were alone.

Frank quirked an eyebrow at the peculiar behavior, however enthusiasm was contagious and he was getting curious. He tilted his head and prompted with a smirk. “You holding out on me, Joe? ‘Cause you look like you on some of that good molly.”

Joey snorted and shook his head before pulling down his mask to reveal an excited grin. He swiveled his small backpack around to fish out something from it. “Check this out, man!”

The blank white label was bloodstained and ripped but Frank recognized the object as soon as it was out in the open and pressed into his waiting palm. 

Spray paint. Neon green. Flashy. 

He had a pang of nostalgia from the feel of the can alone and he shook it, appreciating the satisfying sound of the metal pea rattling inside. “No way.” He tore his eyes away from it to glance over his companion in awe, eyebrows raised. “You got this from a trial?”

Encouraged by the interest, Joe elaborated keenly. “Yeah! You know that skater-looking chick? Turns out she’s into tagging or something ‘cause she had it on her. Made sure to grab it before sticking her on the hook.” 

Frank viciously sneered, picturing the scene. “Good. That bitch drives me nuts.” 

Joey nodded, the dislike of the brash survivor shared. “You’re telling me. She tried to run me around, too.” He finished cockily, leaning back on the couch with crossed arms. “Didn’t work out for her this time.” 

Well, this was an unexpected turn of event. 

It seemed as if the showoff in Joey had a hard time digesting that Julie one-upped him on the challenge their leader had set out from them and took it upon himself to bring him something else. Frank loved when his friend took initiative like this to make him happy. 

Always willing to encourage his Legion to do things for his amusement, Frank wasn’t about to have this gesture go unnoticed. With an approving smile, he placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it amiably. “This is awesome, Joe.” He added, for good measure. “Way better than the old man’s smokes.” 

The praise had its effect, as it usually would when it came from the older boy. Joey was trying to appear unaffected and cool but the bashful smile and his fidgeting hands were a dead giveaway. “Yeah… I thought you’d be into it.” With a little casual shrug, he added. “We could tag this place, like old times.” 

It was honestly rather touching the lengths at which the boy would go to impress Frank. If confronted, Joe would easily counter by saying that he just wanted to have fun, that it was an impulsive act, and that was partially true. Yet, he waited for them to be alone to show off his find and smiled that special way Frank’s only ever seen graze his face around him.

He wasn’t sure about a lot of things, especially in this strange limbo, but he felt could count on Joey’s adoration no matter what. He had that kid deep in his pocket. 

Frank patted his thigh once before getting to his feet, shaking the can while eyeing the large wall by the fireplace that would serve as their canvas. The Entity had copied some of their graffiti, including the ‘Legion’ mural commissioned, but they’ve yet to make one for themselves since getting here. 

Without much thought, Frank started spray-painting. He was just happy to smell that toxic aroma again and be able to add color to this place. 

Joey was standing besides him now, inspecting his crude strokes of paint before rolling his eyes and taking the can back. He had been indulgent in letting Frank have a go at it but both knew he’d be the one to make a decent tag out of their sparse resource. 

Frank let him. He liked watching the artist at work. 

Joey had his brow crinkled in concentration and would occasionally take a couple of steps back to inspect his progress before resuming. Once he got his stride and didn’t need to focus as much, he broke the silence. “Julie’s still up in her room? I think she was there with Suz when I left.”

He shrugged indifferently. “Yeah, still there.” He wouldn’t have brought up the subject. The situation annoyed him enough at it was and he’d rather not dwell on it. He finished coldly. “I don’t know what her problem is. If she wants to pout in her corner, fuck her.”

Joey glanced fleetingly at him upon hearing that. “I wouldn’t fret too much about Ju, man.” He continued with a small smile and a reassuring tone. “I mean, there’s a lot to get used to here. Honestly, I think she’s just worried about Susie.”

Frank scoffed at the unsolicited consolation and tilted his head. “Who’s fretting? Pretty sure I said ‘fuck her’.”

He was silent for a beat, mulling over the predicament of the pink-haired girl. She needed to toughen up but perhaps he had been a bit harsh. He could try a different approach next time. “If Suz needs a pep talk, I’m on it.” 

“Don’t.” The firmness with which Joey said it surprised them both, so he caught himself and spoke more calmly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean … Just give her a break. I think she’s having a hard time with the killings.” He was frowning now, continuing with a quiet tone. “With The Entity’s whispers too. I mean, the way she talks about it sometimes … I don’t know…” 

He trailed off but Frank understood what he was implying. 

He didn’t like the idea of a weak link in his Legion but, if there was one, it was certainly Susie. She must be doing well enough during her trials, perhaps urged by the firmness of the Entity’s ominous orders while on the hunting grounds. 

It was when she was here, between the trials, that she seemed the most plagued. 

She hadn’t really opened up to him about it. Even so, he had noticed it sometimes; the young girl grabbing her head with her hands pressed frantically against her ears, rocking anxiously. The sight of it was unsettling; like something you’d see from an insane asylum patient. 

He’d nudge her sometimes. Crack a joke. Ruffle her hair. She would break into a smile, braces bared. That haunted look in her eyes would fade and she’d be a bit more at peace. 

Other times Frank pretended he didn’t see anything. 

The memory awoke unease and he looked his companion over, realizing he never really took the time to ask him how he was feeling about their servitude to the Entity. There was discrete concern in his voice. “How ‘bout you? You having a hard time killing?”

Joey turned to him and scoffed with a laugh. “Hell no.” He spoke in that humorous, boastful assurance and flashed a toothy grin. ”I’m a bad mother-fucker, you know that.”

Frank snorted at that, his mood uplifted. He lunged to grab the back of Joe’ neck and pulled him close in a rough but playful headlock. “Hell yeah! Bad boys for life.” 

There was a small cry of protest and the taller boy freed himself and good-humoredly pushed him away. He lifted the spray, about to add a few more details, but upon closer inspection found that he was just about done. 

Frank grabbed the can from Joey’s hands and shook it to see how much paint was still left. Not much. Not enough to start a new graffiti but he didn’t really mind. Frank must have done a lot more spray-painting than his friend yet his never looked as great. In all fairness, his graffiti’s purpose was pure destructive vandalism rather than artistic intent. 

An idea struck him and with a smirk, he nudged Joey in the ribs to get his attention away from his neon mural. “Want to play chicken?”

The other’s dark brown eyes turned to him curiously and before he had a chance to open his mouth to ask him how, Frank threw the aerosol can in the burning fireplace.

The tattooed youth said nothing, just walked closer, sat on his haunches in front of the flames and glanced up at the other boy expectantly with a taunting grin. 

With a disbelieving headshake and a small glare, Joey muttered. “You prick.” 

He still joined him because he would never refuse a challenge proposed by Frank, no matter how idiotic. They crouched by the fire side by side, both equally close to the looming hazard and refused to back down. 

They would occasionally glimpse at each other, and Frank could see Joe get a little fidgety when they started hearing the telltale whistling of the gas pressure building up. 

They had long sleeves on, it wouldn’t be too bad, but neither was wearing their masks to protect their face from the impending explosion of flames. 

In the end, they backed off at the same time with a shout, startled despite their brave façade and fell on their bottoms with the loud startling sound of the compressed can finally exploding and sending burning embers flying. They received minor burns for their trouble, pretended it didn’t hurt that bad and immediately spent the next moments accusing each other of chickening out first. 

Their ruckus only increased when Julie came out of her room to tell them to stop being loud dumbasses already. 

…

The next time Frank came to the main lobby to admire Joe’s handiwork he realized he wasn’t at all surprised to find it practically gone. The paint was getting sucked into the wood, as if it were a porous surface rather than the hard one it was meant to imitate. It was as if the walls were swallowing the pigment. Digesting it. 

The Entity didn’t care for their vandalism. 

Frank shrugged it off indifferently. He was used to his petty destruction getting mended without a trace. 

Joey seemed to take it harder. There was a disheartened look on his face that looked out of place on the normally carefree and cocky boy. It was the look of a man that was staring into the face of futility. His powerlessness in the strange world he had been abducted in dawning upon him.

He pulled down his skull-painted mask and quietly left.

He didn’t bother to bring anything back from his next trial.

…

Frank Morrison would dawdle around the main lobby when he longed for the company of his Legion but would chose to go in his room when he rather not. In the past, he wanted solitude to rest his weary body after a painful trial or to listen to his music in peace to drown out the whispers. Now, he did so in hopes of getting one of his private calls. The craving made him isolate himself more frequently. 

There had only been one other phone conversation since their question game. The exchange had lasted just a few minutes. It was a casual, flirty chat with humor but not much substance that was interrupted by the Entity’s beckoning for a trial. It had been a little while since and Frank felt he was due soon, so he was eagerly waiting, which obviously sucked. Patience wasn’t his thing.

Especially since there was no assurance that he would even get a ring.

He really wished he could initiate a call rather than wait around passively. It was a private number and therefore impossible to dial back. He had asked for the digits before ending their last conversation, only to have Danny chuckle at his request and denied him dogmatically, much to his annoyance. 

Frank’s aggravation didn’t out balance the excitement he felt upon finally hearing the quiet chime of the cellphone. He was sitting on his bed, cross-legged, and answered good-humoredly. “Ghosty! What’s up?”

GhostFace read the mood and played off the chemistry, sounding less cryptic than usual. “Oh, nothing. Chilling, killing. You?”

That made him smile. Danny’s sense of humor was growing on him. Their little talks were never boring. “Same.”

While still sounding casual, the man inquired nosily. “Where are you?”

Frank shrugged a little, finding the question pointless but still answered. “Just alone in my room.”

The voice dropped to a whispering, husky quality. “Oh yeah? What are you wearing?”

The youth guffawed loudly, caught off guard by the classic line. The absolute gall of the man was staggering. He wished he could say he were surprised at how little time it took Danny to be so openly lecherous.

He teased without real bite. “Do you always make creepy phones calls like this or am I special?”

Ghostface still had that sultry tone as he cooed. “You’re special, Frankie.”

Frank felt his cheeks heat up and was incredibly grateful to be on the phone rather than face to face. This way he could sound dismissive and exasperated without his expression betraying him. “Whatever, freak. I’m just wearing black jeans and my varsity jacket.”

The young man hadn’t expected the answer to evoke any sort of reaction, but from the breathy quality of the reply, it seemed Ghostface was into the dropout jock aesthetic. “Hm, that’s pretty sexy. What sport did you play?

Frank grinned at that, loving the praise and reaction he was effortlessly getting. It certainly encouraged him to share more about himself. “Basketball.” 

There was a bit of a surprised hum at the end of the line, voice harmlessly inquisitive. “Really?” The eeriness seeped through his next words, despite their false innocence. “Aren’t you a little short for that?”

Frank’s smile dropped with a cold, sinking sensation in his gut at the words and their insinuation. 

During an earlier conversation, Danny nonchalantly implied that he had just seen Legion around, from afar, perhaps on his way to his own realm or a trial. If this were actually the case, how would he be able to tell him apart from Julie, who is a bit shorter, or even Joey, who is a bit taller? 

Perhaps he was overreacting, but it felt wrong.

He spoke in a quiet and guarded tone, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “What did you say?”

Danny replied with blunt carefreeness, as if nothing was wrong at all. “I said what position did you play?”

Frank’s disquiet only grew upon hearing the other lie so blatantly. It was more incriminating than anything else and something told him Ghostface was not oblivious to that. 

He started to think about the fact that the cellphone he found on the ground was right outside their door. It didn’t raise any flags at the time. Now that he stopped to actually consider it, wouldn’t this mean that Danny had been looming around the chalet? 

Wasn’t it odd that he only called when he was by himself?

With gritted teeth, the youth hissed out, not appreciating the deliberate mind-games. “That’s not what you said, asshole.” 

There was a little laugh in response to his accusation, as if the whole thing were funny. The voice was so outwardly sweet that it was downright insulting. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt your feelings?” 

Frank spat out fiercely, angry at the patronizing answer. “Fuck you, that’s not the problem!” 

The anger didn’t seem to be fazing Ghostface at all, if anything it almost seemed like he was enjoying it. He spoke in a hushed, flirtatious tone. “Don’t worry. Short or not, I like what I see.” 

Heart pounding loudly, the usually mouthy Frank was at a loss for words. 

The silence seemed to encourage the other killer. He continued in a smooth, coaxing manner. “Why don’t you take off that jacket for me, Frankie?” 

There was no threat lacing the words. There didn’t need to be. 

Heart beating faster still, the young man promptly hung up and threw the phone on his bed. He ran a hand through his short hair and cagily glanced around him, as if to make sure there wasn’t someone hiding in the corner. Of course, he was alone.

He heard the phone ringing anew on the dusty covers but he purposely ignored it. 

He jumped to his feet, mind racing, and paced around his room anxiously. Trying to get his bearings. Trying to make sense of how he felt about the revelation. Trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his cheeks were still burning from the compliment despite it all.

He marched over to the window, narrowed his eyes into the darkness hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything. There was only unnatural snow, stars that never moved and strange fog that rolled over the horizon. He was out there, though. Watching.

Ghostface was watching him.

He was doing it because he liked what he saw. 

His words. 

Why did that sound more exhilarating than terrifying?

There must have been something deeply broken in his young mind to crave this sort of attention. Frank was not the sort to waste time on introspection. He was more the type to repress all thoughts regarding his many mental health issues and distract himself with mischief and substance abuse. 

Frank wanted to be noticed. It didn’t matter why.

His mother never paid attention to him. She kept him all alone in his bedroom while she got high or whored around or did whatever else but care for him. Honestly, he didn’t remember much at all; he was too young. He just remembered being mainly by himself, sent back to his room whenever he asked for anything. It was either that, or just flashes of violent shouting, sounds of struggles and objects breaking from the other side of the closed door. 

They used words like ‘neglect’ and ‘traumatic’ but never followed up on him aside from that one meeting in an office with strange adults he didn’t know telling him they were taking him away. 

Foster home after foster home, he kept acting out violently because that’s all he knew and bad attention was better than being ignored and forgotten. They still didn’t pay attention; they didn’t see him, not really. Just kept getting rid of him. 

There was only one adult that actually genuinely saw him, back in high school. Mrs. Roy. She didn’t have that maternal softness other female teachers tried on him that he easily manipulated. She was tough and saw right through him and as much as he hated that about her, he couldn’t help but respect it. She called him out and convinced him he was better than how he was acting. For the first time in his young life, he actually tried. He made the basketball team and maintained good enough grades to not get kicked out. 

Frank, despite his best efforts, had a violent streak and very poor impulse control and therefore no one was surprised when he assaulted that referee. The hateful thing that man had said to him didn't matter because no one heard and no one cared. Not when Frank screamed and cursed so much louder. 

With his past infractions all piling up, it was the last straw and they jumped on the opportunity to expel him. He never returned to the school after that. Just as well. No matter how calloused he claimed to be, he’d rather not witness the look of disappointment in the eyes of the only adult that ever believed in him. 

Didn’t matter in the end because he found his Legion and they looked at him with bright eyes filled with wonder and admiration. Waiting for guidance. Blank slates to be molded into whatever he chose. 

Was it greedy to want more? Perhaps. So what? It’s not like Frank Morrison had that much to start with. 

Besides, his Legion’s once bright eyes were gradually dimming in the fog. 

But now Danny said he liked what he saw. 

Making sure he was in plain sight of the bedroom window, Frank deliberately took off his varsity jacket. 

As if satisfied, the ringing stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Frank, giving a little show to Ghostface.  
SMH.
> 
> I was cramming way too much into this chapter so I decided to split it.  
This means I have a big chunk already written for the next chapter, so expect an update soon!  
Hope you enjoyed, comments and suggestions are always welcomed. :)


	4. Surprise me

There were little details that the Entity didn’t quite get right when it recreated Ormond’s winter. Frank hadn’t really paid much attention to it before, however he had been standing outside on the balcony for a while now with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. It gave him time to notice some oddities. The delicate snowflakes that fell from the night sky seemingly incessantly never piled up. There was always the same amount of snow outside. As a test, he held out his finger and caught one of the frozen crystals. It didn’t feel cold and it didn’t melt, as it should. It just disappeared. 

When he was a child, he liked to watch his hot breath materialize into the frigid air into a white puff of condensation. It was soothing. He used to pretend he was a dragon. He used to pretend he was smoking a cigarette. When he tried it now, nothing appeared. The outside felt cold and his body felt warm, but it was as if the bridge between both had been omitted. 

The sudden ringing of the cellphone in his jacket pocket startled him out of his reveries. He brought it with him, in fear of missing a call, but opted against answering it outside where the prying ears of his Legion could stumble upon the conversation. He muffled the speaker with a bandaged hand and quickly made his way back to his bedroom for privacy. 

Normally a much longer delay would pass between phone calls but perhaps due to the sudden interruption of their last conversation, Ghostface initiated one what felt like the next day or so. 

Frank was grateful for the timing. It wasn’t such a long wait that he would start feeling subconscious about his little display while still being enough for him to access the situation with a more level head. 

Perhaps this was not a coincidence. 

Of course, the young man kept the whole thing to himself and mainly remained in his room, or on the balcony for fresh air. Fortune was on his side for he wasn’t even called for a trial. He needed time to think. After carefully evaluating his position, he figured he should be able to use Danny’s attraction towards him to his advantage. He had earned the adoration of his friends and it allowed him to drive them to do things they hadn’t thought possible of themselves just to gain his approval. 

How hard could it be to manipulate a man that seemed so interested in him? 

There wasn’t an innocent bone left in his hedonistic body but he objectively had much less experience with men than with women. In the latter case, the trick was to peek their interest with his charisma and then promptly proceed to ignore them or treat them poorly until they came chasing after him. Worked like a charm on teenage girls, yet he doubted it would work on a grown man. Especially on a grown man that also happened to be a prolific serial killer. 

He’d have to improvise but he was confident in his natural charm. Now that he was getting a call from him, he could start testing the theory right away. 

Frank walked over to the window with the chiming cellphone in his hand, hoping to catch sight of his admirer. No such luck, sadly. He was dealing with an adept tracker. He finally answered, leaning on the windowpane. “Hello?”

There was no greetings, rather Danny immediately reproached with a touch of hurt in his voice that could not possibly have been sincere. “Why did you hang up on me last time?” It was very convincing, though. “We were just starting to have fun.” 

With an eye roll, Frank replied sarcastically. “I don’t know, Danny. Probably ‘cause you’re a creepy pervert?” 

He said all that with snarky hostility but had still happily picked up the phone. He had taken off his jacket like he was requested. He felt an undeniable exhilaration in knowing he was being admired from afar. 

Thankfully, Ghostface didn’t call him out. He must have been thinking it, the hypocrisy too plain, but he chose to humor him. 

He sighed, sounding forlorn and smitten. “I can’t help myself. You’re too cute, Frank.” Wasting no time, he continued smoothly, his taunting smirk almost audible. “So, what are you wearing now?”

Frank tried his best to have no reaction to the compliment, focusing instead on a more pressing matter. He pursed his lips and tilted his head, countering challengingly. “You can see for yourself, can’t you?”

Having dropped the pretense, Danny chuckled a bit and easily replied. “It’s that black leather one. I like it too.”

This was correct and the final proof that Ghostface was actually out there, watching him. Frank was staggered at himself for how quickly he adapted to the idea of being stalked. Of course, he would feel differently it if he was being trailed by cops or by anyone else with nefarious intent, but that clearly was not Danny’s goal. 

He could very well guess what his goal was. 

The youth jokingly dusted off the sleeves of his coat, showing off the nice fit. “Good eye, Danny. It’s my favourite.” He wanted to sound casual, to make the other killer understand he wasn’t intimidated by him or his stalker tendencies.

If that impressed Ghostface, he made no sign of it. 

The masculine voice spontaneously solicited, breathy and lustful. “You can take that one off for me too, right?” He finished with such a low voice, it was practically murmured. “Nice and slow.”

And just like that, Frank found the perfect opportunity to test the waters. Knowing he was being observed, he teasingly pulled at the zipper of his grey hoody, as if to expose more flesh, before stopping and asking coyly. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

There was an amused snort from Danny before he asked straightforwardly, dropping the husky whispers. “What do you want?”

Frank tsked at him before breaking into an obnoxious grin. “Nah, I’m not going to _tell_ you, that’d be too easy. Surprise me.” He continued jeeringly, using Danny’s own words against him. “Didn’t you say you felt like you’ve known me a long time? Should be easy, then.” 

The other killer sounded a bit cautious, not taking the bait just yet. Gaging to see if it was a game worth participating in. “And what happens after I get you your surprise?” 

Frank had to push a bit more. Fair enough. 

He shrugged with a coquettish smirk. “If it’s good, maybe I’ll show you something you want to see.” He wanted to sound enticing without concretely committing to anything. That way he could string the other along for as long as possible. 

There was a small, laughing noise at the end of the line followed by a short beat of silence. After the pause, the killer cooed with honey in his voice. “You need to understand something about me, Frank…”

The youth tilted his head at that. “What?”

Ghostface’s tone sharpened to a low, threatening tenor. “I don’t play for _maybes_.”

Frank, despite the unintentional shudders crawling up his spine at the tone and its implications, kept his composure and replied with ease. “Come on, Ghosty.” He tried sounding as flirtatious as he could, without making a parody of himself. “You know I’ll make it worth your while, don’t you?” 

He smiled shrewdly when he heard the subtle elated hitch in the other’s breath. 

With a jokey sound of mock deliberation, Danny finally conceded. “Well, you _have_ been such a treat so far. Alright, I can play along.” He finished in good humor. “See you around, Frankie.” And without waiting for a reply, he ended the call. 

With a little laugh, Frank stared disbelievingly at the now quiet phone. This was much easier than he thought. Now he had something else to look forward too without needing to do much. Taking off his shirt would probably be enough, considering how excited he seemed to have gotten from his varsity jacket. 

In the off chance he might need to do more, he felt that perhaps he wouldn’t even mind acting out on his provocations. Not that he would openly admit it, but there was something oddly enticing about Danny, despite having no idea what he looked like. 

There was something about that voice. 

…

There was only so much time Frank Morrison could spend cooped up and he was starting to crave the company of his friends again. The lodge was still as he loitered into the halls, glancing down from the top floor hoping to catch sight of someone on the couches bellow. 

Frank was almost surprised to see the familiar huddled figure of Susie sitting in the stairs. Her head was downcast and her hood pulled up. One would think she was in one of her miserable moods but her feet bouncing rapidly to some unheard rhythm told him otherwise. She was just listening to her mix-tape. He could already hear the loud upbeat instrumentals as he approached, the music muting the sound of his footsteps. 

He figured he ought to bother her a bit. 

Frank hadn’t paid attention to Susie as of late. It wasn’t all on him; she was so often locked away in her quarters or in Julie’s room. When was the last time all four of them hung out all together in the lobby? Though it didn’t feel like such a while had passed, maybe it had been longer than he realized, for instead of the pink locks he had grown accustomed to, he saw light blue hair cascading down her shoulders. 

He plopped down on the stair besides her and leaned his chin on her shoulder, which earned him a slightly startled look followed by a smile of recognition. 

The older boy smiled back before gently grabbing her headphones off her head and pressing them against his ear. He hummed a bit before turning to her with a head tilt and an unreadable expression. “How does it feel, Suz?”

Susie blinked at him, visibly confused, if not a bit anxious judging by the light frown on her face. “How does what feel?”

He looked at her as earnestly as he could, deadpanning. “Having such shit taste in music.” He continued with false concern. “I mean, is it hard?”

She groaned, clearly irritated for having fallen for his set-up, but was unable to cover her amusement. “Oh my God, Frank! You’re a dick.” She shoved him playfully in retaliation before yanking her headphones back from his prying hands. With a not too serious pout, she defended. “_Everyone_ likes ska. It’s like, impossible not to like, unless you don’t like feeling happy.” 

Frank snickered, allowing the push without any resistance and shrugged dismissively. “I’m happy not to listen to crappy brass, does that count?”

Susie stared pointedly at him and shook her head. “You do realize you literally have the worst taste in music out of everyone, right?” She crinkled her nose. “That nu metal shit is so try-hard and lame.” 

He looked at her incredulously before ruffling her hair with both hands, shaking her head side to side in the process just to be extra annoying. He retorted with the same, mock concern as before. “Man, it’s just so sad how all those blazing horns went and ruined your hearing, ‘cause my beats are amazing.” 

She squealed in protest and grabbed at his hands to get him to stop, throwing a glare in his direction as she tried to fix the tangled mess he had created. This only made him laugh but he finally left her alone, watching her silently for a bit. He wondered if the Entity had provided the dye for her, the same way it inexplicably delivered new outfits for them. No denying the new colour suited her. 

Susie always had been cute but her best friend was the prettiest girl in school and there was a level of insecurity in result that Frank had spotted early into meeting her. Teenage girls tented to compare themselves to others and although she never said anything about it, he could tell. The braces certainly didn’t help her self-consciousness. 

She was feeling down lately; he could boost her self-esteem a bit. 

Frank leaned back against the stairs casually, commenting with an easy grin. “I got to admit, you got pretty good taste in hairstyles, though. The blue looks rad.”

She did seem to appreciate the compliment, judging from the bright smile that lit up her face. She gingerly toyed with the blue tips with her fingers, averting her eyes bashfully. “You like it?”

He nodded approvingly. “Yeah, you look amazing.” He tilted his head at her, framing her features with his fingers jokingly, as if taking a snap shot. “Really brings out the shine in your braces.” 

He couldn’t give her _too_ much praise, or it would seem insincere.

Her grin fell and she covered her mouth with her hand, as she often did whenever he teased her about her gear. “Shut up, Frank!” She pushed him once more and glowered but there was no bite in it. 

Frank cackled again, nudging her back playfully.

Though Joey advised him against bringing up her feelings about the killings and the whispers, he judged that the timing was right. She was in a good mood and they rarely got to be alone together. Despite popular belief, he had the capacity to not be a complete ass when he chose. 

The older boy spoke with as much gentleness as he could muster without seeming fake. “You been feeling okay, Suz?”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second after he asked, as if the dread returned as soon as she was reminded of it. She bit her lip and shrugged, trying to sound as unaffected as she could with a vague reply. “Yeah. I mean… Yeah. I don’t know.” 

It was not very convincing. Judging by the change in her demeanor, Frank wondered if he ought to have left it alone after all. 

She started playing with the frayed sleeves of her hoodie, her signature nervous gesture, and avoided his eyes as she meekly explained. “It’s fine. I don’t want to be a pain to you too.” She chuckled a bit although the sadness bled through her pretense insouciance. “I think even Julie’s getting fed up.”

Frank put a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it in a reassuring manner. “Suz, come on. You got this.” He grinned in his cocky, assured way that could convince anyone. He wanted to dissipate all her nonsense the same way he used to talk away all their hesitations before going out to steal or vandalize. “You’re part of Legion and no one fucks with us, remember?”

She smiled dimly at him the best she could and nodded fervently, as if she was trying to convince both of them that she believed the words. “No one fucks with us. Right.” 

She nodded once more, sounding brave and resolute. “I do what I have to do, the way The Entity wants it.” Her voice lowered again with downcast eyes as she quietly admitted. “It’s just that sometimes, It’s so damn _loud_.”

Frank didn’t relate to this particular plight. Sure, he heard the ominous whispers too, but he adjusted well enough to have it just be a mild inconvenience. Unless it was regarding the result of a trial, it was mostly vague background noise to him. 

He was about to open his mouth to tell her she just needed to ignore it and take it easy, but she continued. 

“The things It says…” She trailed off before dejectedly shrugging, knowing well enough that she was alone in her torment. She smirked a small, sad thing. “Julie says she can’t hear it as well as me. I bet you’re the same too, huh.”

Her voice cracked and she sounded pained. “It’s crystal clear to me, though.” 

Susie’s hand abruptly reached out, intently gripping at the sleeve of his jacket. As he gaped at her, startled by the desperate motion, she locked eyes with him. The haunted and crazed look in them was disquieting but it was the hushed, trembling mutter that followed that churned Frank’s stomach. 

“It whispers things you’d only hear in Hell.” 

He stared dumbly for a short moment, stunned into silence. He then chuckled tensely, needing to change the atmosphere because he hated how insane this all suddenly sounded. Hated the guilt he unconsciously felt seeing the girl like this. 

He mumbled, laughing without humor. “What the fuck are you on about, Suz?” He pried her hand off his jacket and shook his head, his tone trying to be comforting but sounding curt instead. “We’re not in Hell.”

She kept gaping at him, wide-eyed and panicked before she suddenly broke into a nervous, high-pitched laughter. It sounded broken and wrong and Frank had to suppress the urge of violently shaking her into silence. Mercifully, she stopped and nodded, looking down as she hugged her knees closer to her body. “Y-yeah, no, you’re right. I’m sorry, forget it.”

Frank very much wanted to forget it. He did not want to see that frenzied look on her face any longer. Her trying to pretend she was fine only intensified it, somehow. 

So he patted her back, muttered a vague excuse and left. 

…

Frank Morrison was soaked in blood and sore from the trial when he sulked his way back to his room. The trials were a pain and his Legion weren’t around but considering their strange mood as of late, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. The result of his hunt hadn’t been too bad; he killed all but one, but at the cost of a throbbing stab wound to his shoulder from the feisty blonde girl that managed to escape. His only comforting thought was that for the one painful injury he earned, he must have administered at least a dozen to the survivor.

He wished The Entity would just heal him already. It would do so eventually, so why make him suffer needlessly in the meanwhile? The monstrous deity was a fickle bitch. 

Frank hadn’t noticed anything amiss until he took off his crudely drawn grinning mask and dropped it unceremoniously on his nightstand only to find something waiting for him there. His heart pounded in excitement once he recognized what it was and broke into a smile as he greedily reached for it.

Danny finally delivered. He had been waiting impatiently, not sure what to expect; yet certain he wouldn’t be disappointed. He was right. 

It was a bottle of prescription pills. The label was faded a bit and stained with what must have been dried blood. He guessed it was an amphetamine of some sort. The label read “Zoneral” and had belonged to a Quentin Smith, apparently. The brand name sounded vaguely familiar; he remembered certain kids selling their ADD medication back in high school. 

No matter, he wasn’t fussy. He hadn’t had a taste of alcohol or narcotics since his decent into the fog and, though not addicted, he was a thrill seeker and missed the stimulation of drugs. 

He had never said anything of the sort to Danny, yet the man guessed correctly. Where he even managed to find something like this was another mystery all together. He found himself looking forward to speaking to him on the phone again and asking him all about it. 

Who knew if the pills would make him feel anything? He still pried open the plastic bottle and swallowed a couple, the act satisfying if not from memory alone. Like smoking those stolen cigarettes with his friends had been. If the Zoneral had no effect, it would be because the Entity failed at recreating the link between his body and the stimulant. 

Like the snow that wouldn’t melt on his fingertip. 

Little attentions to details like this were overlooked in the fog, but he preferred to think that his body was still real. 

It had to be, for the agonizing pain he felt was real. 

Pleasure was real too. 

In his enthusiasm, he almost missed the handwritten note left on the nightstand beneath his gift. 

Frank froze with the sudden realization that in order to leave him the bottle and the note, Ghostface had snuck into his room undetected. There was the lurking thought that perhaps he had done so before. It certainly meant he could do it again. 

Realistically, this wasn’t the hardest feat considering that there were virtually no locks on any doors or windows of the chalet. The delapitated building had so many easy entries that it was ridiculous. 

The youth ought to be wearier, really. Yet, in his shortsightedness, getting treated to something outweighed any hypothetical risk. Besides, Frank Morrison had the naively confident opinion that he could handle whatever came his way. 

He carefully picked up the paper, reading the message written with a surprisingly nice calligraphy in blue ink.

> _So, did I get it right? _
> 
> _Just kidding. I know I did.  
I can see it on your face._
> 
> _Xoxo  
\- Ghost Face _

Frank really wished he had read that before breaking into a giddy smile and proving that smug bastard right. With a moody scowl, he rebelliously flipped off the window in case the man was actually waiting out there looking in at him like he claimed.

He blinked a bit when he noticed that there was something scribbled in the back and turned the small sheet of paper over.

> _PS: I liked this game. _
> 
> _Want to try truth or dare next time?  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankie boy here thinking he's such a clever manipulator...
> 
> A bit of a shorter chapter, but I really want ‘Truth or Dare' to be it’s own thing.  
That one is bound to be rather long. I have plans...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.


	5. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've decided I was going to try to keep a regular posting schedule.  
So, from now on, you can expect a biweekly update on Sundays.  
(If I'm super motivated, it could even be weekly...)
> 
> I was originally going to have this chapter be longer, but to finish it on time, I split it into two.

Frank Morrison started taking walks around the property as of late. With his hands in his pockets for warmth and his hood raised, he contemplatively took in his white and icy surroundings. It was quiet and oddly serene despite the decrepit quality of the infrastructure he called home. Save for the fog and the almost inaudible whispers, he could almost fool himself into thinking he was actually back in Alberta. 

Felt cold enough. Felt boring enough. 

Nostalgia wasn’t his motivation. He wanted to catch sight of a hidden shape, or some movement from the corner of his eye. He kept thinking he would eventually find some incriminating tracks in the snow that weren’t his own. He did his scouting casually for he didn’t want his friends to start asking questions. Most of all, he didn’t want Danny to catch on and stop coming by.

Frank had been impatiently waiting for another call. Since he couldn’t reach the other, he’d hoped he could find him instead. No such luck.

He hadn’t realized how large Ormond’s ski resort was until he started searching for a man that didn’t want to be found. 

Cold and bored, the youth gave up and headed back to the lodge. The phone started ringing the instant he stepped foot inside his room and closed the door behind him. There was a time he would have thought this a coincidence. Now, Frank didn’t take the phone with him on his ventures. He knew full well by now that Ghostface only called when he had his eyes on him. 

“You shouldn’t wonder around like that, Frank.” The familiar voice was low and teasing as soon as he answered, no introductions needed. The killer spoke with pretend concern. “You’ll catch a cold...”

Unsurprisingly, Danny knew what he was doing all along. Rather than feel unnerved, as one should, Frank felt a tingle of relief. 

Still, he didn’t need Ghostface to know that, so he held back his smile and spoke with detached, juvenile nonchalance. “Good to know you’re still stalking me like a creep…” He added with a touch of reproach, aiming to manipulate the other into feeling guilty. “I hadn’t heard from you …”

Danny played along, sweetness lacing his smooth voice. “I’ve missed you too, Frankie. I’m awful sorry I made you wait.” Whether or not he was sincere was almost impossible to tell.

Frank did allow himself a grin at the words as he casually walked up to the window, leaning against the ledge. He didn’t even bother trying to spot the man; he knew he wouldn’t find him. Rather, he wanted to be the one on display. 

He fiddled with the zipper of his grey sweatshirt, hoping to titillate as he suggested with the most flirtatious voice he could muster. “Should I take something off? I mean; I do owe you one...”

Danny chuckled softly before cooing in encouragement. “Go ahead, if it can make you happy. I’m watching.” 

Frank smirked knowingly, shrugging off his leather jacket and letting it fall on the floor with a small thud. He wasn’t an expert at this sort of thing, but he figured pleasing a voyeur should be easy enough. He didn’t need finesse. He took his time to unzip his hoodie, revealing the somewhat tattered black tank top underneath covering his lithe torso.

There was a barely audible inhale on the other end of the line. 

“Hm, that’s real nice, Frank…” 

Hearing the breathless quality in Danny’s voice made the young man feel validated. Like he was doing something right after all. That feeling evaporated instantly with the deadpanned words that followed the praise. 

“But it won’t count as my favor.”

Frank was about to shrug the long sleeves off but stopped short, mortified. He hissed out venomously, his blushing features deflected into rage. “What the fuck, Danny? You’re the one that said-” 

Ghostface cut him off sharply. “I know, Frank. I didn’t forget.” His harsh tone seamlessly morphed back to his usual playful one. “I just haven’t decided what I want yet.” The next words didn’t sound quite as good-natured, though. “When I do, I’ll let you know.” 

This was unexpected.

Frank hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Danny could want something else. When he suggested their exchange of favors, it was after he had asked to remove his jacket. The youth just assumed he’d have to take off a piece of clothing. He purposefully left the promise of rewarding his efforts open-ended, which seemed like a good idea at the time. 

He hadn’t thought about the fact that it could have worked against him. 

Frank mumbled resentfully. “Yeah, I’m sure you will, asshole.” Indignant, he zipped his grey sweatshirt back up as far at it would go. He even stubbornly pulled on the laces of his hood to close the gap even more to show as little skin as he could. He added, for good measure. “Hope you liked what you saw, ‘cause it’s never happening again.” 

With that, he promptly hung up. 

The phone rang in his hands almost immediately and he did not answer for what he felt like a reasonable amount of time to get his message across. 

Just in case the message wasn’t clear, Frank decided to pick up and verbalize it. “Eat shit and die, you fucking pervert.” 

Ghostface was poorly biting back his amusement as he soothed with a tone one would use with an unreasonable child. “Aw, don’t be like that…” He then ventured, sounding cheerful and casual despite the other’s irritation and silence. “Want to play a game?”

Frank scoffed at him before walking to his bed and dropping down on it unceremoniously. The nerve of this man. He was upset. Worse yet, he was embarrassed. Despite it all, he also never turned down an opportunity to have fun. 

So, he replied with a petulant eye roll. “You _know_ I do.” 

…

They didn’t need to set up the rules; everyone knew how to play. You can’t lie and you can’t back down from a dare. You can’t change your mind. It was a childish game, really, one he’s played often at parties or with his Legion. Even if it was over the phone, the idea of playing with Ghostface brought forth a layer of danger and uncertainty that was exciting. 

They hadn’t discussed what would happen if one were to fail to comply with the questions or the challenges. There was an unspoken and deadly understanding that it simply would not be tolerated from either party. 

Not that Frank would ever cower out of anything. He was getting jittery, sitting on his bed, impatiently waiting for the game to begin.

Danny started; it was his idea after all. “Truth or dare?”

Frank figured he would do the obvious thing and start off with questions. It was the classic strategy. Get a feel of what may come. “Truth.” 

Danny started off strong and unwaveringly. “What are you most afraid of?” It was a question meant to destabilize. His voice was outwardly playful but with that underlying ominous quality distinct to him. 

For a fraction of a second, a sense of anxiety washed over Frank as he thought about his dreads. He gritted his teeth with a frown, repressing his unease. Repressing the actual answer. 

His one true fear was being alone. 

Truly alone.

Abandoned, unloved and unseen. 

A fear so deeply rooted in childhood trauma turned out to be too much to admit out loud to anyone. He could not even admit it to himself. He internalized the nasty thought and pushed it too far down. It would only subconsciously drive his actions. Enable him to light up a room with his natural charisma; draw eyes to him. Allow him to commit acts of violence and petty crimes so that he would somehow leave a mark. Some proof that he existed at all. 

So, the youth went ahead with his second biggest fear; the biggest one he could recognize. It wasn’t technically a lie. “Bees.”

There was a surprised chuckled at the end of the line, but the answer came too easily and Danny did not seem to be buying it. He probed, bordering on menacing. “…Are you sure?”

It was actually more embarrassing an admission than the other killer seemed to give him credit for. He’d take off running whenever I would catch sight of anything resembling a bee. That would get a good laugh out of the gang, much to his annoyance. He never carried an EpiPen. Free healthcare system or not, it’s not like his medical history easily followed him around foster home to foster home. Clive certainly didn’t bother to check; Frank was little more than a source of government income to be spent on booze.

He pouted a bit, irritated at being doubted and retorted tersely. “Yeah, man, it’s no joke. I’m allergic.” 

The other’s tone softened a bit, catching on to his seriousness, yet probed a bit further with a low voice. “You’re not afraid of what lurks out there?”

Frank smiled that self-assured way of his as he countered dangerously. “I’m one of the things that lurks out there.” 

Danny liked that, judging from the little pleased titter that escaped him. “Hm, I guess you are.” He finished in a good-natured way, having dropped all distrust. “There aren’t any bees here either. Lucky you.” 

Frank snorted a bit at that and continued, eager to move on. “Truth or dare?”

Just as easily and expectedly, Ghostface’s choice mirrored Frank’s. “Truth.”

The question the youth had in store was one of his favorites. It often brought on really juicy revelations and he was especially interested in Danny’s answer. Hearing the confessions of young adults or teenagers was one thing; hearing the confessions of an established serial killer was a pleasure he never got to have. 

He didn’t even try to mask his morbid curiosity. “What’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever done?” 

There was a pause followed by a small, uncertain sound. “That is a tough one since it’s so subjective. What’s _fucked_ up, Frank?” He elaborated, almost ironic. “Killing is fucked up and yet here we are.”

Frank shook his head, waving his free hand about dismissively. “Don’t be a smartass, Ghosty.” He leered mischievously. “You’re a bad man, right? Just tell me one of the worst things you’ve done.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully, taking a couple of seconds to think of a specific example. “Alright, I might have a story you’ll be into…”

Frank urged playfully, “I’m all ears.” 

“There was this old woman I had picked as my victim…” 

Danny paused his own story for a moment, as if he'd figured it'd be best to educate his listener to his methods. 

“Before I kill someone, I like to observe them and their habits for a while. Feels more _intimate_, you know? Also, that way I can choose the most strategic time to strike.” 

With that piece of exposition out of the way, he resumed. 

“Anyway, she would babysit her grandson three times a week. His name was Scotty and he couldn’t have been more than 4-years-old.”

Frank’s eyebrows rose a bit at the mention of a toddler. He wasn’t really sure what depravity he could be expecting from Ghostface and he found himself alarmed despite himself. He gripped the phone a bit tighter yet remained quiet and attentive.

“Sometimes during my watch, I liked to peek around the bushes and wave at him. He’d wave right back. Nice kid. I even brought him a cookie once.” He laughed airily at the memory, as if he were describing some mundane pleasantry rather than a ghastly crime. “I’m pretty sure he liked me too, because he kept telling his grandma about the new friend he’s made.” 

His narration took a sinister turn, his voice deepening lightly. “Thing is, adults never listen to children, even when they should.”

“She just thought he’d made an imaginary friend.” There was imminent laughter that Danny was trying to hold back so that he could finish his story. “When I snuck in for the kill and she saw me, just like the kid described, she finally pieced it together. The look of realization on her face as it dawned upon her? Fucking hilarious.” 

The killer finally did laugh, the memory apparently too funny to remain stoic.

Frank wasn’t laughing. Maybe he had to be there.

Ghostface’s mirth was still present as he lowered his voice, his tone darkening. “I felt like messing with her a bit more before I sliced her up, so I introduced myself as Scotty’s new friend.” 

The cold sadism in his smooth voice was spine chilling. 

“I told her I’d be looking after him from now on.” 

Frank couldn’t care less about the nameless old woman, nonetheless he did feel disquiet at the thought of harm coming to such a young child. “…Did you?” His voice sounded strained and small, even to his own ears. 

Danny snorted loudly in amusement at his assumption, his tone regaining its usual cheerfulness. “Of course not! I just moved on to the next town after I finished with my article.” He continued with a small nostalgic sigh. “Without my mask, little Scotty didn’t even recognize me when I came by later to interview his parents about the murder - Not even when I waved.” 

Frank breathed in relief before letting out a small groan of annoyance. “Wow, you’re a real bastard, huh.” He laughed then, trying to cover the anxiety he didn’t want the other to know about. He was no choirboy, yet he had never come close to this level of deviousness. “Not going to lie, I thought you were going to say you hurt that kid.”

“Nah. I still have my standards.” Ghostface sounded very pleased with himself. Clearly delighted to have riled up the other with his tale. “Truth or dare?”

Frank chose for the second round. “Truth.”

Perhaps inspired by their talk of past murder, Danny asked what he deemed a rather fun question. “If you could bring anyone to be a new victim for trials, who would it be?”

Oh, it was a good one. Frank blinked a bit, mind racing as he thought of the many people he had contemplated killing in his life but never got around to. 

He was almost too keen to answer. “That asshole referee that got me expelled… Wait, no.” He paused in thought, shaking his head and running a hand through his short hair. “Shit. This is hard.” 

He pursed his lips, then suddenly thought of the perfect victim and snapped his fingers with the flash. “Officer Wilson!” He nodded to himself, recalling all the times he wanted to stab the smug, authoritarian look off the man’s face. “That guy was a complete power-tripping asshole.” He grinned wolfishly, imagining the carnage he would inflict upon the policeman. “ ’Used to give all of us a hard time so I know the guys would be into killing him over and over.”

Ghostface was quietly waiting on the line through his brainstorming, entertained at the positive reaction his question evoked. “Aren’t you sweet, thinking about your Legion like that.” He added meaningfully. “Here I thought you were just manipulating them into doing your bidding.”

Frank defended with an eye roll. “Please, I’m not a fucking monster. They’re my friends.” He shrugged a bit, before admitting with a little smirk. “It’s just that sometimes I need to guide them in the right direction…” 

With a chuckle, Danny complimented. “Hm, like a good little leader.” He then added innocuously. “They’re okay with it?”

The older killer's remark seemed innocent enough, yet there was a subtle hint in his tenor that impled that he might know something Frank didn’t. 

The young man didn’t like when the other spoke about his Legion. There was undeserved arrogance in thinking that he understood their bond simply because he was watching him from afar. He had no idea what Frank had been able to get them to do out of love for him. 

Frank spoke with cocky assurance, because he knew how to handle his crew. He knew how to handle anyone. “The trick is that you need to have the other person think doing what you want was their idea.” 

Ghostface snorted at that. “Yeah, that’s basically the definition of manipulation.” He lowered his voice to his velvety tone, all devious sweetness. “Should I be worried about you, Frank?”

He smirked, his tone matching the other man’s. “You tell me, Ghosty.” He wanted to be enigmatic too. He felt that it was Danny’s turn to feel uneasy, for once. “Truth or dare?”

Unaffected, he answered easily. “Truth.”

There was something that Frank was wondering about since he’d find out that the other killer was stalking him. Without much thought, he impulsively blurted. 

“Why me?”

He reflexively bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth. Now that he had said it out loud, he realized how insecure it sounded and regretted his choice of question. Thing was, he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure himself what he wanted to know. He hoped Danny wouldn’t ask for specifications the way he had last time. 

The latter did not. He didn’t even pause to think, he just replied as if it were obvious. “Because you answered the phone.”

This was not the response Frank expected. 

He frowned, ire audible in his voice. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. At first. But now …” Ghostface sighed longingly, his smooth voice laced with exaltation as he confessed. “It’s going to sound crazy, since we haven’t known each other that long, but I can’t get enough of you. You have something _special_, Frank.” He whispered huskily, as if disclosing something naughty. “I think I want you all to myself.” 

This was more the answer he expected. 

Frank should be nauseated. He should feel second-hand embarrassment for the man who spewed such corny drivel. He’s publicly humiliated and bullied people for less. Yet, there he was, feeling inexplicably flustered. Flattered, even. 

He felt his cheeks burn and the corner of his lips twitch up. He pulled up his hood a little more to hide his blush, wishing he had his mask on. It would have made his disgruntled mumble sound more credible. “Okay, faggot.” 

As usual, the other killer didn’t acknowledge his slur. “Truth or dare?”

Frank regained his composure, feeling the blush dissipate. “Truth.”

Danny immediately inquired with keen candidness. “Do you fuck on the first date?”

The question was so blunt and unprompted that Frank thought he must have heard him wrong. “What?”

He had not. The voice purred out wickedly. “You heard me.”

The young man laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He was wondering when Ghostface would start asking him lewd questions; he was almost surprised he hadn’t started off that way. 

With a playful smirk, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner and replied aloofly. “I fuck whoever I want. Dates have nothing to do with it.” 

“Aren’t you the romantic.” It would seem the other killer expected no less from him, judging from the humorous response. 

Before the other could escalate the subject into more explicit details, Frank prompted. “Truth or dare?”

Confidently, Ghostface selected. “Dare.”

Frank had been waiting for this. There was this unspoken tradition in the game that one would pick two truths in a row before choosing dare. He was glad to see that Ghostface was at least predictable in this one facet. He knew what he wanted from the other killer since he saw the note he left for him suggesting they played. 

Sitting upright on his bed, gripping the phone eagerly, he challenged resolutely. “I dare you to show yourself.”

There was a moment of tense silence, one that dragged on much too long to be unintentional. The young man could still hear the quiet breathing on the line, so he clenched his jaw and long-sufferingly waited. He was getting used to his creepy mannerism by now.

With a roguish chuckle, Ghostface finally broke the tension and murmured enigmatically. “I’m nearer than you think, Frank.”

The tattooed youth frowned, opened his mouth for clarifications, but Danny interrupted him before he even spoke. His voice was hushed and gravely as he drawled. “See the closet behind you?” 

There was absolutely no way. It was too ludicrous.

And yet, Frank jerkily turned his head towards the closed doors with his heart hammering loudly. He hurriedly jumped to his feet, instinctively on guard as he very deliberately approached the closet. In the short time it took him to cross the room, he tried to remember the last time he bothered to look inside the dusty thing. It’s not like he had much belongings to store in there, despite its roominess. 

Roomy enough for a full-grown man to hide. 

He gingerly reached for the handle, hesitating for a second before Danny’s soft but hair-raising whispers cooed in his ear. “Go on. Open it.”

Unconsciously holding his breath, he yanked the wooden door open only to find the closet completely empty, save for a blood stained shirt and a discarded mask lying on the floor.

He was confused for a fraction of a second before he finally realized he was being toyed with. Almost on cue, Danny started cackling in childish delight. Huffily, he almost hung up on him, but he didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction than he already had from his prank. 

Ghostface eventually stopped laughing to taunt him instead, clearly delighted with his little practical joke. “Did you _actually_ think I was there?”

He groaned and slammed the door shut. “You’re a real dick.” It was his turn to taunt. “You’re going to chicken out, or what?”

Danny’s tone changed from mocking to appeasing and playful, perhaps not aiming to annoy Frank any more. “Relax, I’m just having a little fun. Look out the window.” With that, he hung up the phone. 

Frank rolled his eyes and briefly wondered if he was going to fall victim to another prank, but curiosity got the better of him and he begrudgedly headed over to the window to peer outside.

With narrowed eyes, he scanned the darkness before him.

He had almost missed it, the shape of him blending so seamlessly into the night, but he recognized a figure standing in the snow. His heart hammered anew and he leaned closer to the glass, pressing his forehead against it, wanting to catch as much details as possible. 

Ghostface seemed to be a man of average height and built, perhaps not that much taller than himself. He looked to be in good physical shape and not outwardly deformed as some of the other killers were. This relieved Frank. Perhaps he was too optimistic, for he could not see much underneath the hooded black leather jacket the man was draped in. 

Aside from his ability to sneak around undetected in the darkness, there didn’t seem to be anything supernatural about him. Not like the terrifying nurse, or the eerily tall specter with the ringing bell. He did wear a white ghost mask, the elongated face simultaneously scary and silly, and suddenly his nickname made sense.

Frank blinked a bit as he spotted something odd. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did it seem like those leather straps were floating? He didn’t have time to keep reflecting on this triviality because suddenly, the previously motionless Ghostface came to life. 

The black shape cocked his head to the side and lifted his hand in a playful little wave. The black leather and the frightening white mask contrasted with the friendly gesture. This duality between dangerous and comical suitably represented who the killer was. 

Frank smirked a bit and waved back. Having finally seen the body attached to that smooth voice, Danny now seemed much more tangible to him, but no less mysterious. 

Ghostface then lifted his hand to his mask, finger raised in a shushing motion before he crouched and slipped away out of sight behind a nearby pile of broken crates. Frank craned his neck to try to see where he went but to no avail. He didn’t need to bother coming down to the yard; he already knew that since he had lost him from his line of sight, he wouldn’t be able to find him again. 

It did not take too long for the cellphone to start ringing in his hand. It suddenly dawned upon Frank that it was very unlikely that the man spoke while wearing his mask. He probably hid somewhere and took it off for their conversations. 

The voice was purring flirtatiously in his ear as soon as he picked up. “Liked what you saw?”

Frank rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t help his grin. He was oddly exhilarated at having finally seen his admirer, despite how brief. “I can’t tell; you were wearing a mask.”

Ghostface chuckled at that, contemplating in a playful manner. “Of course, I was. It’s kind of my thing.” He lowered his voice, adopting his husky whispers meant to tantalize. “If you wanted to see me up close and personal, you should have been more specific.” 

With jarring chirpiness, he changed his tone and the subject. “Truth or dare?”

The young man knew that he probably should change his choice now that the other had completed a dare, but he found himself wavering. “Truth.”

There was an amused huff before the stealthy killer commented provokingly. “For someone who’s not afraid of anything, you’re sure saying ‘truth’ a lot.”

Frank frowned, retorting defensively. “I’m not afraid.” 

Danny edged him aggravatingly, with a knowing cockiness. “Prove it.” 

Frank bit his lip, pausing a bit before he got himself into a mess he rather not be in. There was a reason he hadn’t said dare yet. He might as well be upfront about it. “I don’t know if I should say ‘dare’ when I’m playing with a pervert.”

Ghostface gasped indignantly, like he wasn’t one of the creepiest degenerates in the fog. “Oh, Frank.” As if it were actually the other way around, he reproached mockingly. “What dirty little thoughts are running around in your head?” 

He lowered his voice, deep and purring in quality. Shiver-inducing. “Trust me, when I do end up fucking you, it won’t be because of a game.” There was so much unwavering assurance in his gravely voice that it sounded like a promise. “When I do, you’ll be begging for it.”

Not if. _When_.

Frank had to hold back a shaking breath and he was exasperated with himself for reacting so strongly to the words. After a beat of stunned silence, he finally managed to counter with what he hoped was enough hostility to sound unaffected. “You didn’t show your face. Maybe you’re not my type.”

Danny scoffed once, easily responding in what one could interpret as narcissism. “I’m everybody’s type.” The way he said it, however, was incredibly convincing. So much so that Frank believed him without seeing for himself. 

The youth countered again, eyes narrowed; having just caught on to what Ghostface had implied their sexual dynamic was. “Maybe I’ll be the one that fucks you.”

Danny erupted into boisterous laughter, the loudest and most genuine Frank’s ever heard from him. It wasn’t like the amused chuckles when he teased him. No, it came from the heart, as if he had told a hilarious joke. It was insulting. He was about to tell him to shut up, but the roaring laugher eventually dimmed down to little giggles as he caught his breath. 

The older killer sighed a bit, regaining his composure before he cooed, bordering on condescending. “Tell you what, Frankie...” He could almost hear the predatory leer in his voice. “You can always _try_.”

Frank felt his cheeks heat furiously. He would like to think that he was thick skinned yet being taken this lightly was irking him. As if he couldn’t take Danny if he wanted. As if having a smaller body count before the fog meant he was any less vicious. 

With a glare and a dangerous tone, he hissed with hard resolution. “I changed my mind. Make it dare.” 

Danny answered with such coddling understanding that it only aggravated the youth’s vexed feelings. “Aw, it’s okay, Frank. I don’t mind. There’s so many things I can ask, I love hearing your voice...” He added reasonably. “Besides, you can’t change your mind. It’s a rule.” 

Bringing up regulations was no way to convince a trouble maker, so he adamantly insisted. “Fuck the rules. I said dare.”

The older killer sighed, finally yielding. “Alright, if you insist. I do have something in mind.” There was wickedness in his taunting that should have been alarming, but the youth welcomed a challenge. “Lets see if you’re as brave as you claim.” 

Frank was more than willing to prove that he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked part one of 'Truth or Dare', AKA, Danny fucking with Frank. 
> 
> In all seriousness, I am sorry for the bit of a cliffhanger.  
:')  
I'm pretty stoked for the next chapter. We will have some guest appearances. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.


	6. Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the wonderful Notquitetoxic who beta-read this chapter for me.

There was something surreal about traveling through the enigmatic fog that connected the realms of the Entity. It was dreamlike. Nightmarish would be a more apt description if one were to be sincere. Time was already unquantifiable, but the cold, engulfing darkness destroyed all spatial awareness and made the whole ordeal especially disorienting. Frank Morrison didn’t believe in anything, but when traversing the fog, he would briefly wonder if he was trapped in limbo after all. It left him hushed in disquieting awe. 

He never tried to get to a specific realm before. In his short-lived adventures before limiting himself to Ormond and the trials, he would simply end up somewhere random. There were no directions, landmarks, or maps to guide him in the haze. 

As he stood in the fog unsure how to proceed, a childish thought entered his mind. Maybe he had to envision where he wanted to be and through sheer will would be transported to his destination. Tap your heels three times and the Entity would magically take you there. He almost laughed at himself, but lo and behold, once he concretely envisioned where he wanted to go, the mist cleared up and he was treading on dark grass rather than disorienting emptiness. 

He looked around him cautiously and recognized the distinct landmarks. He had been here before. Well, in some of the copies recreated for trial grounds, at least. That vast, groaning storehouse was looming in the distance before him. The abandoned mine entrance on the edge of the property emitting an inexplicable ambiance of dread and oppression, as if the echoes of some unspeakable calamity still haunted it. 

Frank had successfully made it to the Macmillan estate. 

He took in a deep breath, gathering his courage. No time to dawdle. He had a dare to complete. 

He pressed on with determination towards the large storehouse since its structure seemed the most habitable. 

This place seemed much darker and more inhospitable than Ormond’s ski resort, but he felt brave behind his mask, knife in hand. He was twirling the blade absently as he would often do while on hunts for the Entity before wisely opting to put it away in his pocket. He did not want to seem like a threat, especially with no real backup.

He suspected that Ghostface might be around; it would explain the ominous tingling sense he couldn’t shake off, the feeling that prying eyes were watching him from afar. It made sense. How else would the other killer know he had truly completed the challenge? Still, Frank had the cellphone tucked away in his pants pocket in case Danny wanted to reach him for further instructions or confirmation. 

He noiselessly entered the building, peeking around him watchfully as he used to do before breaking in somewhere he was planning to rob. No locks to force this time, much like in Ormond. Killers of the realm must not fear intruders. The first thing that greeted him upon opening the door was the pungent stench of old blood that hung heavily in the air. Undeterred by gore, he boldly pushed on. 

Quiet still as he treaded further in, he took in his surroundings. He had guessed right; this building appeared to be The Trapper’s dwelling. There was no bedding or chairs, nothing soft or welcoming. There were instead bear traps, jagged scraps of metal, and tools scattered about a very large workbench. It was as if the owner did nothing but slave away on his deadly contraptions. The only thing hinting towards fancy were the various masks lined on display on the wall. 

It looked like no one was home, which may have been a blessing, but was making his job harder. Frank stuck his hands in his pockets with a sigh, wondering what he ought to do now. 

“Are you lost?”

The deep voice resonated in the atelier and the tattooed youth felt jolted in spite of himself as he spun around and found Evan Macmillan glowering at him in the doorway. He was masked but Frank didn’t need to see his face to guess that he was not pleased with the impromptu visit. He had his weapon in hand, bloodstained and dangerous, and his heavy boots stomped noisily on the ground as he approached the trespasser. 

The Trapper was horrendously scarred and bare-chested beneath his bloodied metal-ornamented overalls. Metal rods and pipes cruelly pierced his flesh. Honestly, he looked like a character out of _Mad Max_. The observation almost made Frank snicker. 

Almost. 

He didn’t find the courage to laugh, not while face to face with the massive man.

Frank didn’t recall the Trapper being this broad or this staggeringly tall. The younger man had to crane his neck to meet his gaze as he advanced, the top of his head barely reached Evan’s shoulders. The height difference was one thing, but everything else in his physique was imposing. Muscled and hulking, he was built like those strongmen Frank had seen on TV. Only, it was much more awe-inspiring in person. 

He wondered why he hadn’t been afraid when the large man came to visit them in Ormond, when his legion had first arrived in the fog. It could be that while on his home turf and surrounded by his friends, the colossal beast seemed less intimidating. Now, however, alone in his workshop and pinned under his glare, Frank felt incredibly small. 

Still, he was here for a reason, and he would not falter. Projecting as much confidence as he could, he shrugged casually and began explaining. “Well, I’m actuall-”

“No.” Evan’s profound voice sounded foreboding as he brusquely interrupted him. As if the question had been a rhetorical one. As if he was generously offering him an out. “You must be lost. You have no business being here.” 

Wow, okay. Fair enough. 

Frank decided to change his tactic a bit. Appeal to the man as a fellow servant of the Entity with far more experience than him. He rubbed the back of his neck and ventured with pretend coyness. “I was just hoping to get some advice on something. You’ve been around for a while so I thought-”

The Trapper cut him off once more, having heard enough. His overwhelmingly hostile demeanor matched the harshness of his words. “I’ve already told you all you needed to know.” He took a step closer still, looming over the youth with a tilt of his head and undeniable intimidation. “Consider yourself lucky I even bothered.” 

He slowly lifted his large, heavy cleaver towards the door before ordering with a tone that left no room for interpretation. “Leave. _Now_.”

Frank let out a small, if not nervous, laugh and lifted his bandaged hands up in peaceful surrender, before slowly backing away with a bit of comedic flair. He saw that he was pushing his luck, so he conceded, but not without accomplishing what he came here for. He uttered cheekily, loud enough to be heard over the groaning storehouse. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry … _Daddy_.” 

This, simply enough, was the dare Danny set out for him.

Go see The Trapper and call him ‘daddy’. 

Frank had found it odd but he figured it was meant to be embarrassing, a test of brass. He wasn’t shy so it seemed doable enough. There were no other specifics. Ghostface had said that he was certain Frank was clever enough to figure how to slip it seamlessly in conversation. Turned out there wasn’t much room for talk, so he had to make due. 

Now he could get out of here. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious to do so. The smell of blood, sweat, and metal was starting to make him feel queasy. 

The older killer wordlessly tilted his neck to stare at his retreating form with an unreadable demeanor. His deep voice was terse and incredulous as he finally broke the silence. “What did you say to me?” 

Frank paused in his stride and turned around to face him. Judging by the clipped tone, the word had struck an uncomfortable nerve. He was rather amused that he had destabilized the otherwise imposing man. Really, when was the last time he got to be insolent? He missed it. 

With a grin, he repeated with as much impudence as he could muster. “I said, sorry dadd-…-”

The young man never got to finish his sentence. Before he knew it, big, rough-skinned hands grabbed him by the front of his jacket and snatched him off the ground. 

Who could have anticipated that so large a man could move so quickly? 

He certainly hadn’t. Now he found himself slammed ruthlessly against a wall, feet dangling in the air. The back of his skull impacted the hard surface painfully and he became too disoriented to fully grasp what was happening. Surely he had made a grab for his concealed hunting knife, but in the struggle it must have slipped from his hand and fallen on the concrete floor. 

The Trapper hissed venomously as he held him in his choking grip and glared into his masked face. “I must have heard you wrong. Something like that coming from the mouth of some brat sneaking around where he doesn’t belong…” He leaned in close, their foreheads almost touching, lowering his voice to a menacing mutter. “Well, it makes me think you’ve seen things you shouldn’t have.” 

Heart hammering and head throbbing, Frank regained his senses enough to defensively grip the large forearms pinning him to the wall. He was now acutely aware that his weapon was out of reach. Part of him knew that even if it weren’t, it would have done little to help. The situation had abruptly escalated out of control and he couldn’t comprehend why. 

This was obviously some horrible misunderstanding.

The smaller killer quickly shook his head, writhing in his hold as he protested vehemently. “I didn’t see shit! I’m just kidding around!” 

The Trapper didn’t seem to believe him. With narrowed eyes, he continued in a threatening and distrustful tone. “Been feeling off, lately. Like someone’s been watching me. Watching _us_. That a coincidence too, little rat?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Evan yanked him off the wall and slammed him down the adjacent worktable. The impact knocked the wind out of Frank, sharp traps cutting into his skin as he was pressed ruthlessly against them. He held back a choked groan and did his best to reposition himself away from the rusted metal digging into his back. 

The Trapper chuckled without humor before speaking with a grave and patronizing tone. “Children like stories, right? I have one for you. Listen.” 

With gritted teeth, Frank glared up defiantly at the man from beneath his mask but remained quiet. Even he knew when it was time to stop mouthing off. 

Macmillan had him pinned with one large mitt and was gesturing vaguely as he spoke with the other. “Before this place, I was a man with heavy responsibilities and an estate to run. There was little time for anything else.”

Frank was trying his best to grasp the words and their relation to the situation at hand. He didn’t understand, not yet, but he figured listening to the story was better than whatever sordid fate could otherwise await him in the grasp of this giant. 

“Thing is, a man still has needs and I’d sometimes go satiate them.” He grabbed Frank by the chin, holding his head in place and forcing his gaze upon him to assure that he had his undivided attention as he continued meaningfully. “Once a little greedy maggot, kind of like you, tried to threaten me. Said he’d tell the world my preferences, even if it meant incriminating himself.” 

He elaborated, his voice subtlety betraying bitterness. “I was the heir to someone rich and powerful, so he had everything to gain.” He was not bragging about his status. If anything, it seemed to be the source of some great burden. 

As if to illustrate his next words, Evan gruffly ripped off the childish smiling mask, tossing it behind him. Frank felt panic flare, feeling somehow more vulnerable with his youthful face exposed. Much to his horror, the older killer then painfully grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his mouth open; peering into it like one would a mule. 

The Trapper muttered coldly. Callously. “So I cut out his tongue to make sure he’d never run his whore mouth. Filled it with salt and held it shut.” 

Frank, distraught, vainly attempted to pry the bloodstained hands off himself and shake his head out of the iron grip. Evan finally chose to release him, much to the youth’s relief, but he was not quite finished. “Once that was done, I got to thinking; what if he decided to write to the press? Send a telegraph to someone?” He grabbed the other’s comparatively small wrist, eyeing his fingers with pitiless intent as he slowly brought his free hand over Frank's. 

“So I broke his fingers. One by one.” Evan crushingly squeezed his hand, the whole bandaged appendage engulfed in his larger one. With that, Frank finally cried out in agony. He felt the bones grind together excruciatingly and wondered if they would snap under the force. 

The Trapper continued, speaking over the cries of pain as if they were nothing. “I wanted to take my time with it, to make him comprehend the error of his ways.” Wistfulness laced his next words, as if he remembered some great wisdom taught to him. “… People, they’re like that. They need to be taught with pain.”

He released him then and stood domineeringly, his broad arms crossed on his chest as he glared down. He kept him pinned with his overwhelming presence rather than physical restraint. 

The looming words echoed, stridently, their implicit threat palpable. “That’s when I was still a man, accountable by man’s laws. Now I’m a monster in a lawless world.”

With a slow tilt of his head, he finished with a sick parody of a schoolteacher’s didactic tone. “Do you understand the moral of this story, little rat?” 

Frank gritted his teeth and held his aching hand to his chest, fiercely glowering at his tormentor but remained stubbornly quiet. Surely the other wasn’t actually expecting a reply. 

Apparently this was not the case. Evan grabbed him by the collar and shook him brutally, bellowing in harsh authority. “Answer me when I’m speaking!” He hissed low and slowly, disdainfully empathizing every word. “Do you understand?”

Frank reactively screamed at him, the outburst violent and rebellious, but his body betrayed his fear by convulsing in tremors he couldn’t control. “Yes, dammit! I fucking get it, alright!”

The Trapper let out a small, pleased hum at that. “Good.” He heaved Frank off the surface of his work table and rudely threw him on the floor. He did so effortlessly, as if he were a weightless rag doll rather than a person. 

With a dismissive wave, he ordered coldly. “Now get the hell off my property.”

There were no additional threats. There didn’t need to be. 

Frank climbed to his feet as quickly as he could, despite the throbbing pain from his injuries, and beelined for the exit. He had enough presence of mind to grab his discarded knife. He instinctively pulled up his hood, suddenly painfully aware that his face was still bared but he didn’t want to turn back to grab his mask.

He didn’t think he would survive the attempt. 

The ordeal left him woozy and distraught, unstable feet leading him out of the storehouse on autopilot while his mind was racing. 

Frank Morrison was slight in build and relatively short in stature. Yet, in this realm, he was granted mysterious strength that allowed him to effortlessly pick up men taller and heavier than him and throw them on hooks. He was able to mercilessly slaughter victims with almost no resistance. He was already self-assured before descending into the fog, but this almost superhuman ability only reinforced his unwavering confidence that he could handle anyone. 

Sobering wakefulness came as a result of his confrontation with The Trapper; all the servants of the Entity were blessed with the same gift. 

Their supernatural strength was _proportional_. 

Frank was stronger than the survivors, yes. This did not make him stronger than the other killers. He had no hulking mass of muscles or any mysterious powers. 

A meek, nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered that he and his friends might be the weakest amongst them all. He felt his stomach knot. Nausea hit him anew. 

Frank was too consumed to really take notice of his surroundings. He almost ran into a dark blue obstacle just outside the doorway. He barely stepped back to avoid it, saved by his quick reflexes. With a frown, he glanced to see what it was. His eyes traveling up must have taken a fraction of a second, yet time seemed to slow as he took in the details of the form standing before him.

An obscenely long and gleaming kitchen knife was clenched fiercely in a large hand while the other was balled in a tight fist. The broad chest covered by a dark uniform was heaving rhythmically with the muffled sound of heavy breathing. The figure was tall, as towering as Evan, and a white expressionless mask was staring back at Frank. The latex betrayed no expression, of course, but he caught sight of the man’s pale eyes beneath. They were sweltering with what could only be described as pure murderous intent. 

He recognized this shape. He knew that iconic white mask. He knew it from before the realm of the Entity. 

Michael Myers. 

Why the bogeyman would even be here, of all places, Frank couldn’t wrap his head around. It was too surreal. Running on survival instinct alone, he went around him, perhaps vaguely mumbling an apology. He kept walking as quickly as he could to get off this cursed estate and away from its dwellers. 

He heard the Trapper’s booming voice call out something that sounded like ‘boy’ and his panic flared until he realized that he wasn’t the one being addressed. Suddenly the pieces came together and the nature of their relationship dawned upon him. 

Frank didn’t look behind him, yet he knew that the black holes in that blank mask were focused on his retreating form despite Macmillan’s call. He felt the raw hatred and killing intent so strongly it might as well be burning through his back. Even while threading through the woods on the edge of the property, he didn’t look back in irrational fear that he might find Myers standing right behind him, knife raised to strike him down. 

The nightmarish and disorienting fog felt like a blessed sanctuary when it engulfed his body to transport him away from this horror show. 

…

Frank Morrison emerged on the edge of his own realm, the whiteness of the eternal blizzard dazzling in comparison to the darkness of the fog and the Macmillan estate. It was night here as well, yet it seemed much brighter. He squinted in discomfort, boot crunching the icy snow and mechanically headed towards the safe haven of the ski resort. 

He was almost startled when the phone rang in his pocket, having nearly forgotten all about the reason he left Ormond to start with. The device could have shattered in his pocket during his struggle with the veteran killer. It might have been the first thing he would have checked were he in a better state of mind, but he had been understandably preoccupied with getting out of immediate peril. 

Now, however, back on the familiar snowy field and hearing the well-known chime, he felt grounded. 

Safe again. 

This, in turn, allowed him to fully appreciate exactly how pissed off he was. 

Frank finally answered the cell, jaw clenched. He probably wouldn’t be able to make a coherent sentence that wasn’t a string of raw cursing so he kept quiet. For now, at least. Perhaps Ghostface would find something to say that wouldn’t make him want to slice his throat. 

He was about to be sorely disappointed. 

No greetings, no apologies; just that purring voice oozing in his ear. “… I guess Trap-daddy doesn’t have a sense of humor after all.”

Ghostface sounded like he could barely contain his amusement. That teasing mischievousness that Frank found alluring in past conversations made him see red.

Danny even had the audacity to chuckle lightly before he sighed, his smooth voice calmly leveling. “Oh well, that big brute’s pretty territorial. Protecting the estate seems to be his thing, he won’t go bothering you.”

“You think that makes it okay, you fucking asshole?!” Contrastingly with Danny’s calmness, Frank had raised his voice to a near shout before he even realized. He stopped walking then, not wanting to get too close to the chalet for anyone to overhear his conversation. He hissed low and reproachfully into the receiver. “The daddy thing wasn’t a coincidence, you _knew_ something.” 

The nonchalant quality of Ghostface’s next words made it all worse. Perhaps he was trying to sound appeasing but, to his ears, it sounded like ridicule. Like Frank was being over-dramatic. Almost as if Danny didn’t recognize the danger he had just put himself in because of his stupid dare. 

“Oh, come on. You said you weren’t afraid of anything…” He then cooed harmlessly, as if it would make everything better. “He let you go, didn’t he?” 

The youth raised his eyebrows in disbelief and let out a sardonic laugh before he snapped back sarcastically. “Oh, you mean after he tossed me around and threatened to torture me? Yeah, lucky me.” 

There was a small snort at the end of the line followed by a meaningful pause before the other killer uttered ominously. “He’s not the one I’d be worried about, Frank.”

The young man suddenly recalled the hate-filled and murderous glower The Shape directed towards him. The knotting feeling in his stomach from earlier returned with a vengeance. He kept quiet now, his throat tightening. 

“You do know who the other one was, right?” Danny must have mistaken his silence with ignorance for he helpfully elaborated, with a tad too much enthusiasm. “He’s the Haddonfield bogeyman; they based movies off the guy. I’m sure you’ve seen them. I know _I_ have… dozens of times, at least.”

Frank’s grip on the phone tightened. 

He knew very well who Michael Myers was, and what he was capable of. He’d seen the movies too. He used to stay up late at night and watch them when he was a little kid with no adult supervision to tell him otherwise. It gave him nightmares until he became desensitized, arguably much too early for healthy developmental growth. Later, he’d binge-watch them with his friends around Halloween. 

It was all fun and games when it was just a movie based on events that happened decades ago. 

Ghostface went on, sounding a bit reticent as he admitted. “Okay, don’t laugh, but I’m sort of a huge fan of his.” He waited a bit, almost as if he was expecting mockery. As if Frank cared enough right now to comment. 

Now that his secret was out and no remarks followed, he uninhibitedly gushed with the excitement of a schoolgirl describing her favorite boy band heartthrob. “Stealthy, insidious, merciless… He’s a real inspiration to me.” He even let out a dreamy sigh. “I mean, the man’s basically an unstoppable killing machine. Not even bullets could take him down. Gives me chills. ”

There was a dull, pulsating headache growing in Frank’s temples and he was unbelievably irritated with Danny blabbering about how deadly and unrelenting The Shape was. It felt like a sick joke. The adoring praises towards his idol were only solidifying the gravity of his situation. 

He spat out harshly, interrupting whatever other veneration the other still had in store. “Are you fucking kidding me with your faggot-y fanboy moment right now?” 

Ghostface gasped lightly at the insult before muttering. “Now you’re just being hurtful.” He sounded crestfallen and it would have been hilarious under any other circumstances. 

He subsequently dropped his gushing and resumed in a drearier tone, finally reflecting the seriousness of the problem at hand. There was a sadistic undertone that betrayed the gruesome enjoyment he was deriving from this. “Well, in any case, it sure looks like Mikey’s not a big fan of yours.” 

The implications filled Frank with sinking dread. There were only so many realms in the world of the Entity and no true escape from any of them. Surely if Michael Myers wanted to find him, he would. It’s not like he’d never stalked and slaughtered teenagers before. What if he had just been looking for an excuse to get back to his old ways? 

Ghostface hummed pensively before adding with an infuriatingly innocent and inquisitive manner. “Think he’s jealous or just protective?” 

Frank’s eyes widened at the confirmation that somehow Danny was already aware of Evan and Michael’s affair. His fist clenched with rage at his side and his voice, incredulous with betrayal, sounded quiet even to his own ears. “You fucking piece of shit. You set me up.” 

The other killer tsked at him, derisively dismissing his accusation. “Don’t be such a cry-baby, it was just a dare.” He could practically hear the sneer in his voice as he reasoned smoothly. “How could I possibly know?”

He knew; Frank felt it in his gut. 

He also saw, didn’t he? 

He didn’t do anything to help, either. Perhaps he would have reproached him for that but Ghostface spoke again before he had the chance. 

There was genuine wickedness in his falsely sweet words. It was as if he weren’t even trying to hide it now. “What’s the matter, Frankie?” With a devious snicker, he whispered low and teasingly. “Didn’t you want excitement?”

Frank felt a full-body tremor overtake him that had nothing to do with the frigid winter air. He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and stared incredulously at it as a new realization hit him, one that should have been obvious. 

This man did not have his best interest at heart. 

It wasn’t a lighthearted joke that escalated outside of their control. He was certain that there was malevolent intent from the start. 

It blind-sided him because he couldn’t understand what Danny gained from any of it. 

Then again, what did Frank ever gain from people he tormented in the past? Why did he bully that poor gawky dork in his class until he saw the silent tears of helpless frustration trickle down his cheeks? Why did he steal his backpack and slash his bicycle tires? Why did he force him to change schools to escape from his incessant torture and humiliation? 

Frank did it because it was funny, that’s all. 

Well, he wasn’t going to be the butt of Ghostface’s twisted jokes. He was not going to give him any other opportunities to mess with him. He wouldn’t even grace him with the courtesy of telling him to fuck off. 

Ignoring the distant cries for his attention asking him if he was still there, he hung up the phone and tossed it as far as possible. He still had a good throw from his basketball years so it landed a satisfying distance away in a snowbank. The fluffy white mount immediately swallowed the black cellphone. There was no thawing in this realm, so it would stay in its snowy resting place never to be seen again. 

Frank could have sworn he heard a distant ringing, but perhaps he was imagining it. He was so used to hearing the electronic chime now that it could very well be a phantom sound. He turned away from it, shoved his hands in his pockets, and headed towards the lodge. He tried his best to ignore the urge to look behind him. He tried his best to ignore how empty his pockets felt without the cellphone that became such an integral part of his dreary life in the fog. 

He chose to focus on being angry. It was better than being scared. 

The familiar eyes that all turned towards him as he brusquely pushed the door open normally would have brought him happiness but, at the moment, he wanted nothing to do with his Legion. He threw them a hostile glare and silently headed towards the stairs.

The leader didn’t even pause his stride as an oblivious Joey excitedly jumped to his feet from the couch to greet him, asking where he went. He didn’t turn his head when Julie made a snide comment about how he looked like he got his ass handed to him. He practically shoulder checked Susie before she moved out of his way, the girl clearly too put off by his expression to venture to say anything about it. 

He would figure this out. They didn’t need to know. He just needed to be alone for now, he was in no mood to pretend he was fine. 

Frank closed his bedroom door and dropped face-first on his dusty bed. He wished he could sleep, blissful unconsciousness taking his problems away if only for a bit. 

Instead, he grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter references my other fanfics that some of you may not have read. It all takes place in the same universe. _
> 
> _Here's the abridged version: Trapper and Myers are in a relationship.Trapper has a daddy kink because he’s basically the personification of daddy issues. Mikey boy likes to stalk his man because he’s low key creepy. They’re both very possessive of each other._
> 
> ... 
> 
> Is this the last we'll hear of Danny? :0  
... Obviously not.  
Buckle in, we're in for some of that teenage angst next chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
Comments and suggestions are always welcomed.


	7. Rabbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta-reader, NotQuiteToxic, for all their help on this chapter!

Frank Morrison wondered if he was being paranoid. The dark fog that bordered the realms appeared particularly ominous of late, as if it were harboring a hidden threat. He had no concrete proof, yet he could not shake off the eerie feeling that someone was trailing him. It wasn’t like the titillation he felt knowing that Ghostface was admiring him from the shadows. It felt dangerous. Frank could sense something was amiss when he was outside the lodge, by a window, or when he ventured on the balcony. Occasionally, a furtive shape caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He would instantly turn to look, heart hammering.

There was never anything. 

It was probably only his imagination running wild and Frank felt like a child. He hated to admit that he feared the bogeyman. So he didn’t. Instead, he walked faster to the lodge after his trials, head low so that his hood and mask would block his peripheral vision. He kept away from the windows. He spent a lot more of his time by the fire in the foyer, much to Joey’s delight. The latter would come meet him whenever he could.

The boys were presently loitering on the couch, making a game of throwing debris they’d gathered into the flames. They were making bets as to whose object would send the most sparks flying. Frank found himself enjoying the carefree moment and questioning why he had been avoiding his Legion. It felt good to be wasting time, destroying property with his friend.

During moments like this, it was easy to forget about his woes. It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong, that it would all work out if he ignored it.

After some jokes and idle chat, Joey eventually addressed the elephant in the room. To him, Frank seemed inexplicably volatile of late, so he carefully picked his moment to not annoy their leader further. “Where the fuck have you been, man?” He laughed a bit to cover what was most likely genuine dejection. “I feel like you’ve been ghosting us, or something.”

Frank peered over to him at that. He caught those big brown eyes staring openly back with the adoration reserved only for him before they turned back towards the flames.

He admittedly had been distant as of late and realized he had missed his friend as well. Now that he was done with Ghostface, he felt it was time to solidify his hold on his Legion. Joey was the easiest to influence and it seemed like a prime opportunity to tease him.

Frank nonchalantly moved closer to his companion’s spot on the couch. He allowed his hand to rest on the muscular thigh as he leaned in a bit too close to the other boy’s face. He lowered his voice with a tone that sounded just mocking enough for potential deniability. “Felt lonely without me, Joe?”

With a surprised blink, Joey fully turned his head towards him at the words. Once he noticed the proximity of their faces, he quickly turned back timidly. He poorly tried to mask how flustered the unsubtle touching and closeness made him, much to Frank’s amusement.

The dark young man bit his lip with a small frown, hands knotting together nervously before venturing. “Frank, you know I-“

Joey never got to finish his train of thought. They heard the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs and ripped away from each other. They resumed their game with the fire as if nothing had happened when the girls finally joined them.

Frank pretended to miss the flames and threw a piece of wood at Susie, who chucked it right back at him with a miffed squeak.

Their laughter filled the lodge, concealing the anxiety lurking in Frank’s heart. 

…

Frank Morrison was not surprised the day he went up to his room and found the familiar black cellphone waiting for him on his pillow. Deep down, he knew that someone like Danny was too stubborn to give up so easily. He was almost relieved, if anything. He was now able to persuade himself that the unnerving feeling of being followed had been Ghostface all along.

The sensible part of him was bothered that the killer allowed himself into the lodge without his permission. The twisted part of him was flattered by the attention.

Wisely choosing to be on his guard for trickery, the young man cautiously approached his bed with narrowed eyes and his knife in hand. Nothing appeared amiss; everything else was exactly as he had left it. He noticed a small, neatly folded piece of paper tucked under the cell. After sheathing his blade, he gingerly picked up the phone with the note and read the words written in the same recognizable blue ink and meticulous calligraphy as last time.

>   
_Please don’t be mad.  
I was just having a little fun._
> 
> _You know I’m sorry, don’t you?_
> 
> _I really do like you, Frank._
> 
> _ xoxo  
\- Ghost Face_
> 
> _Don’t ignore me._  


The last line felt like a postscript, the ink scrawled thicker and more erratically than the rest. As if Danny would barely contain his frenzy as he wrote it.

Despite this, Frank scoffed at the words.

Did the other man really think some cheap apology would be enough to sway him after what he did?

The youth promptly crumpled the paper and chucked it dismissively over his shoulder before moving his attention to the cellphone. He was surprised to find it undamaged despite its time in the snow. He wondered if it was a different one, or it the mysterious rejuvenating powers of the Entity were at play.

The young man figured hurling it from the second floor was a good way to test its endurance.

Frank marched over to the window and flung it open. He began the flinging motion, intending to discard the device and watch it smash to pieces on the icy ground below. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to let it go.

He stood by the open window with a frown on his face as he considered the phone still in his hand.

Recalling the words on the letter left for him, Frank rationalized that it would be even more defiant to purposefully ignore Ghostface’s calls instead. Surely, this alone was the reason he wasn’t destroying the phone. It had nothing to do with Danny’s claims that he was sorry, or genuinely infatuated with him. It was certainly not because the youth didn’t want to fully let go of the only bond he still had with the mysterious and strangely alluring killer.

The sudden ringing pulled Frank out of his musings. It almost startled him into dropping the cellphone after all. The timing was impeccable and this was obviously no coincidence. Danny was lurking in the darkness, watching him and expecting him to pick up.

Frank purposefully brought the phone to his ear as if he were going to answer. He kept a straight face before breaking into a bratty grin as he pressed the end button instead. He then raised his middle finger to the night before slamming the window shut. It was an act of petty revenge, but the youth relished the thought of crushing Danny’s hopes.

The cell started ringing again as he was walking back to his bed. With a scowl, he hung up a second time only to have it start anew almost immediately. 

It seemed his admirer was persistent.

Frank sensed that this would be the start of a long endurance game he didn’t have the patience for. So, he shoved the cellphone under his pillow before lying down on top of it, muffling the sound almost entirely. He grabbed his headphones and Walkman from his night table and blasted his music to drown out what little chime still bled through the bedding.

The young man blissfully listened to his entire mixtape before eventually getting curious. He pulled out the phone again.

37 missed calls.

He snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. Talk about obsessed.

Yet, he felt a strange sense of gratification in knowing that Danny wanted to get in touch with him this badly. That he was surely still watching him right now. A small smile graced his young face despite himself. Frank fleetingly toyed with the idea of making a little teasing display by the window to show his stalker what he was being denied.

Frank probably wouldn’t have gone through with it, even without the ominous whispers of the Entity beckoning him for a trial. He was almost excited to go on the hunting grounds, for once.

His beats always put him in a vicious mood.

…

The sight of gore meant nothing to Frank Morrison after the countless ritualistic sacrifices he participated in. The only time he could recall being shaken by violence was that night in Ormond, when he killed the janitor, before his descent into the fog. But it hadn’t been the sight of the victim’s blood, nor its warmth or coppery smell. It was the implication of what he’d done. What he’d made them all do.

That was a long time ago. Now death was just a game and he was currently tainted red with the blood of the survivors he’d just slaughtered. His hands were sticky with it. The sight of it left him indifferent and he never thought that could change.

Until this moment, that was.

Frank had been walking at a leisurely pace, hands in his pockets and head slightly downcast. He took the same frozen path he always took back to the chalet after a trial. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary initially. It was only a couple of scarlet drops on the ground at first; it took him a few seconds to even notice them.

With each passing step, the droplets multiplied and ultimately amassed to a thick red smudge. The contrast of the bright color on the pristine snow was jarring. He stopped short with a concerned frown, his stomach knotting in apprehension. He slowly lifted his head to look ahead, eyes fixated of the sick display prepared for him.

The trail of blood led to a trail of entrails. The desecrated organs scattered across the snow belonged to a rabbit, or rather, what was left of one. It took the youth some time to realize what he was looking at; the small body was too mangled. The poor thing had been completely disemboweled, and its head was ripped off.

There was no actual wildlife in the fog, only unnatural stillness, dark whispers, and death. However, The Entity chose to recreate two types of creatures and set them free to roam the land. There were crows, the faithful servants, which aided the killers during trials with their croaking. Then there were the rabbits. Frank hadn’t understood what purpose those served before this very moment. They were meant for slaughter.

They were for killers who couldn’t wait between trials.

The torture of the animal was in itself pretty disturbing but that wasn’t what filled Frank with horror. He noticed something else; something left just for him. A cold sweat broke all over his trembling body at the realization.

Impaled in the snow, where the animal’s head used to be, was Frank’s mask.

The one he left behind in the Macmillan estate.

Having given up on ever retrieving his original mask, the young man took to wearing a replacement during his trials. It seemed that someone charitably returned it with a meaningful message. 

He noticed movement in the corner of his eye and deliberately tore his horrified gaze away from the carcass. Unlike all the other times he’d attempted to catch what was setting him on edge, he actually _saw_ something. It was only for a fraction of a second, but he spotted an unmistakably tall figure dressed in dark coveralls.

In an instant, whatever lingering hope Frank had that Ghostface was the one messing with him vanished.

He felt bile rise in his tightening throat.

He needed to leave. Now.

He yanked the grinning mask out of the snow on a whim; he tucked it into his sweatshirt before taking off towards the safety of the chalet.

The urge to run was overwhelming. Despite this, Frank still had enough presence of mind to realize that it was best to not show such outright fear. The gruesome tableau had been purposely left in his path to intimidate him. Granted, it _worked_, but he certainly didn’t want the other killer to know that. He still widened his strides and warily tightened his hold on his knife.

The remainder of his walk felt interminable, but he finally reached the lodge. He threw an anxious look over his shoulder before entering, slamming the heavy door shut behind him.

Frank let out a shaky breath and leaned his back against the wood door, trying to regain his composure and still his trembling hands. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed much time to do so. Joey’s gregarious voice was already calling out to him.

“Frankie! Did you fuck ‘em up?”

Both Joey and Julie were sitting by the fire, the ruckus caused by his entrance alerted them of his arrival. Their attentive eyes were turned towards their leader, expecting him to come join them. Frank was glad he was still wearing a mask to hide his facial expression. They might have asked questions if they saw the disturbed look on his face.

Frank took one last steadying breath before peeling himself off the door and heading towards them. He answered with as much boisterous assurance as he could muster, trying to appear as natural as possible. “Yeah, man. I got ‘em all.”

This seemed to please Joey, who exclaimed praise and went on to describe how his own hunt went. Frank was barely listening as he joined them by the fireplace, but the familiar sound of his friend’s voice was a welcomed diversion. Feeling calmed, he finally took off his gore-splattered mask and dropped it beside him.

It seemed Frank wasn’t the only one not paying attention to Joey’s story. 

Julie’s focus was peculiarly honed on the tattooed youth. She wore an unreadable expression that Frank did his best to ignore, despite how scrutinized it made him feel. She was shrewd and most likely suspected that something was off. Just as she was about to open her mouth to form a question, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs stole her attention.

Frank was grateful for the interruption and turned towards the source of the sound. He grinned at the sight of Susie. She was always a welcomed addition to their hangouts and teasing her was an easy source of entertainment for them all.

However, the look on her young features made it evident that she hadn’t joined them to pal around. Joey noticed as well and went silent, allowing her to express herself. Susie often looked haunted and anxious, but it was evident something was wrong. Her face was drained of all color and her eyes were wide with fear.

Susie’s voice was weak as her fingers knotted nervously. “Guys…”

Julie frowned and immediately rose to her feet to meet the smaller girl, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head slightly and spoke in a soft voice, her protective concern evident. “What is it, Suz?”

The young girl hesitated before slowly pointing towards the window. Her soft voice sounded especially childish, frightened as it was. “There’s someone out there …”

Julie and Joey seemed confused by the words, if not a bit skeptical, but they looked in the direction of the window. 

Their leader didn’t look.

He _knew_.

Frank felt his heart pounding so frantically in his chest that he was sure they could all hear it. He was grateful to be seated, he felt as though the ground had been swept out from under him and he was sinking into a dark abyss. He clenched his fist, trying his best to remain calm and control his steadily rising anxiety.

His voice sounded terse to his own ears when he managed to choke out. “What are you talking about?”

Susie’s voice sounded anxious and apologetic, as if she doubted her own eyes. She nervously wrapped her arms around herself, muttering. “I’m not crazy, am I? The whispers got so loud and then I looked ...” She chewed on her lower lip before adding. “I think it’s that killer from the ‘Halloween’ movies.”

That certainly grabbed everyone's attention.

Joey was the first to jump to his feet and rush towards the large window of the foyer, scouting Susie’s claims. He practically pressed his forehead against the glass as he squinted his eyes into the darkness.

The normally fearless and cocky boy gasped and took a couple of steps back, pointing in disbelief. “Holy shit, she’s right! It’s the dude from the Halloween movies.”

Frank blanched at the confirmation.

Shit. 

Despite his apprehension, Frank got up and joined his companion by the window. He needed to keep up appearances and stay in charge of the situation. He was their leader, after all, and he was determined to act like one. “What’s he doing?”

Joey squinted his eyes again, searching for any further movement, before he turned back towards his friends with a shrug. “He’s just sort of standing there…”

Frank looked for himself and it took him a moment to spot the silent trespasser. Michael Myers was about half a kilometer away, but his iconic white mask was immediately recognizable despite the distance. He was standing in the snow, facing the chalet and holding his sharp blade threateningly, but otherwise was eerily immobile. 

Julie joined them at their vantage point and peered into the darkness. Once she spotted the tall figure standing ominously before them, she muttered under her breath. “That’s creepy as hell.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in silent assessment of the situation while her fingers drummed on the windowsill irritably. She then turned her fiery gaze towards Frank. Her tone was curt and sharp as she hissed. "What the _fuck_ did you do?”

Frank blinked, staggered by her accusation. He knew the girl was clever, but he hadn’t actually expected her to piece the situation together so quickly. Because she was absolutely right, he vehemently defended himself with doubled vigor. “I didn’t do shit! I just came back from a trial.” He added with a touch of hurt in his voice, hand pressed to his chest indignantly. “Why the fuck are you blaming this on me?”

Julie glared at him and was about to retort, until Susie abruptly yelped beside them. “Oh my God, he’s going to kill us!” She was shaking her head in frantic denial, her blue locks flying around her frightened face. 

Joey turned towards them with a look of determination. “No way.” He pulled out his karambit, and pointed towards the window with the blade as he spoke. “We go out there and we show him Legion ain’t nothing to fuck with!”

Julie was patting Susie’s back soothingly and rolled her eyes dismissively at the pep talk. She paused her comforting to harshly berate the boy for his naïvety. “We go fight Michael Myers? Are you brain damaged, or something?”

Frank, for his part, was uncharacteristically silent. 

Normally he would have sided with Joey’s hot-headed plan, but he knew better after his sobering confrontation with Evan Macmillan. The reality was that Michael Myers wasn’t an ordinary man; he was the bogeyman himself. To entertain the notion that they stood a chance showed that his friend was under the false impression that they were much stronger than they actually were. 

Frank didn’t blame him; he thought the same until recently. 

Granted, there was strength in numbers. But even if they somehow managed the impossible and found a way to wound the legendarily unstoppable mass murderer, there was still The Trapper to worry about.

Those two were apparently a packaged deal. Another layer of danger that Frank kept to himself.

Besides, one look at Julie’s reticent face and Susie’s unraveled one made it obvious that the solidarity Joey was hoping for wasn’t present.

Susie’s eyes suddenly widened again,and she began furtively glancing around herself in a cagey and unnerving matter. She frantically covered her ears, apparently trying to block out the unbearable voices. “Can’t you guys hear?! It’s warning us…” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, dismayed. “Even _It_ can’t stop him.”

Frank felt the beginning of a dull headache. He pressed his fingers to his temple with gritted teeth. He needed to think and the younger girl’s panicked cries beside him were not helping the situation. He hissed, trying his best to not sound as irritated as he felt. “Calm the fuck down, Suz. He’s not going to do anything.”

Joey looked between them all, his disbelief plainly apparent. He practically screamed, trying to appeal to his friends earnestly. “There’s four of us, we can take him!” He turned to Frank expectantly, hoping the other boy would come to his aid. Help him convince the others they needed to fight. “We just need to stick together. We’re _Legion_. It’s what we do.”

Frank didn’t want to sound like a coward, but there was no way he was going to embark on a suicide mission for the sake of bravado.

He just needed to convince his impulsive friend to stay put and stop being an idiot. With a stern voice, he began, while he turned his gaze back outside. “Joe, I don’t think that’s-“ To his surprise, Michael Myers was nowhere in sight. It seemed the killer had slipped away into the darkness while they were busy squabbling. He blinked, muttering in incredulity. “Wait, he’s gone.”

Joey did not seem satisfied with this. He shook his head and pleaded once more. “We need to make sure he’s not still roaming on our turf!” 

When none of his fellow Legion stirred at his words, the dark young man sighed in defeat. The disillusionment was apparent on his face, but he clenched his fist in renewed determination before pulling up his mask and turning towards the exit. 

Joey tossed a surly look over his shoulder as he threw open the heavy front door. “If you guys are too chicken, I’ll go by myself.”

Frank should stop him. He knew he should. His friend was needlessly putting himself into a dangerous situation, one he didn’t fully understand. Before Frank even had a chance to speak up, the other had already stepped out into the cold night.

Maybe he should go after him, drag him back by force.

But Frank knew who Joey was. That boy wasn’t about to back down from anyone or anything. Besides, he wasn’t the one Myers was after. His friend would be all right.

Hopefully.

Frank just needed to make the little voice in the back of his head shut up. He didn't need it reminding him that Michael Myers tended to take sadistic pleasure in picking off his obsession’s friends one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Michael, you scary. 
> 
> We're finally getting a glimpse of that teen drama I promised.  
There's about to be a whole lot more of that in the following chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.
> 
> ( On a side note, I made a tumblr account for my fics:  
evildoughnut-fics.tumblr.com )


	8. Didn’t see that one coming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back with a new chapter! I had to take a bit of a hiatus because of some events in my life, but things have settled down and I will be able to update more regularly. 
> 
> Special thanks to my beta-reader, NotQuiteToxic. 
> 
> Oh, and also, fair warning: Frank and Julie aren't nice people. This chapter will contain some of that heavy teenage drama™.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed since Joey rushed out. It felt like an eternity. A looming sense of dread permeated the lodge as the remaining youths anxiously waited for his return. As the minutes dragged on, an array of gruesome scenarios played in their active imaginations. A cold draft had seeped in through the opened door, yet it wasn't the cause of the three’s shivers.

No one spoke a word.

Julie had not moved from her vantage point by the window. Her green eyes were focused and her jaw tight. The intensity of her expression reflecting scrutiny that she was not verbally expressing. Susie noticed it, of course. Still, she didn’t dare an attempt at lightening her friend’s embittered mood. Instead, the younger girl settled on one of the plush chairs a little ways off, hugging her knees close to her body with downcast eyes.

Frank Morrison was also peering out the window a couple of feet beside Julie. He was seemingly watching for any signs of their companion’s return. Truth was that he stared without really seeing. He was too busy ignoring the uncomfortable tension that settled between the remaining members of his Legion to really be on the lookout. Tried to remain stoic despite his gnawing apprehension.

Julie’s uncharacteristically icy tone finally shattered the silence and startled him out of his musings. “You’ve dragged us into your mess _again_.”

Frank frowned at the words and looked over in her direction. The girl hadn’t even turned her gaze towards him as she spoke. She was still staring into the night, her arms folded across her chest.

Hating the blatant accusatory implications, he retorted with a glare and a warning tone. “What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Julie scoffed scornfully before turning to face him. She slowly tilted her head, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you really that stupid, Frank? You can’t figure it out?”

With matching dryness, Frank shot back. “I must be. So how about dropping your passive-aggressive bullshit for once, Ju?” He narrowed his eyes challengingly, mirroring her stance. “If you’ve got something to say, then go ahead and fucking say it.”

A dangerous glower flashed across Julie’s face at those words.

Frank knew that look well. He’d recognize that fury twisting her pretty features anywhere. Hell, they were times in the past when he went out of his way to antagonize her just to witness it.

They were about to have a fight. A real one. 

It was about damn time.

After the silent brooding building up between them lately, Frank was looking forward to it. Clearing the air and taking out his frustration would do him some good. He just needed to be mentally prepared. He had to be as ruthless as she was bound to be.

There was something intense and brutal in their arguments. Susie knew this as well, judging from the concerned look on her features as she wordlessly looked between the two from her seat. 

Considering whom Julie and Frank were, it was only natural. Both were vicious when they wanted to be. They fed off each other in the worst and best ways. In their collaboration, they pushed each other to surpass their limits. In their discord, it was a race to see who would tear the other down first. There was an inexplicable thrill to it.

Despite how cruel they could be towards one another, they were worse to whomever they picked as their target. 

Once, a girl Julie disliked made the mistake of showing up to one of her house parties. With what would later be described as excessive malice by Joey and Susie, the couple proceeded to unrelentingly berate the wretched girl.

They were good at picking people apart. They excelled at throwing their victim's inadequacies back in their face in the most hurtful ways. They didn’t stop their public humiliation until the girl was a crying mess. Once that was accomplished, Frank poured out the content of his drink on her head while Julie pointed and laughed. When the poor thing finally tried to leave, they followed her to the door to throw more abuse her way.

They found out later that the girl stopped showing up at school in fear of facing Julie again. It only made the lovers laugh harder. Joey and Susie didn’t think it was _that_ funny. Despite all their fearlessness and rebelliousness, they never were as cruel as Julie and Frank.

This cruelty was part of their complicity; something just the two of them shared.

Not that there had been much complicity between them since their descent in the fog. 

Julie gestured towards the window incredulously, her tone strident. “You brought a stalking psycho-killer to our door, Frank!” Her voice lowered again but the iciness lacing her words were more impactful than her shouting. “I can let go of a lot of shit, but this is just too fucking much.”

The tattooed youth shook his head before deflating easily with a chuckle. “What’s with the fucking paranoia, Ju?” He kept his composure, despite the allegations. “I didn’t bring anyone to our door.”

Julie wasn’t buying his deception and glared warningly. “You can lie to anyone, Frank, but you can’t lie to me.” She sighed as if disappointed he was even attempting it. She elaborated in a denouncing tone. “You’ve been withdrawn, like you had something to hide. I couldn’t really put my finger on it… But then you came back from God-knows-where, bleeding and without your mask?” 

The young woman scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Frank. You never leave without it.” She pointed exasperatedly towards the window, voice rising once more. “And now we have Michael Myers showing up? You actually expect me to believe that it’s a coincidence?”

Julie was admittedly observant and clever, yet Frank certainly wasn’t about to admit to any wrongdoing. She was still missing key information; he could deny everything. He just needed to double down and be even more trivializing. 

Frank rolled her eyes flippantly and mocked her. “Guess what, Nancy Drew, it _is_ a fucking coincidence and I haven’t been hiding anything.” He sneered with a shrug, acquiescing. “Yeah, I’ve been distant, but so what? Ever think that maybe I need some time away from babysitting you guys?”

The leader prided himself in his acting and persuasive nature. Despite this, judging from the unwavering stare focused on him, Julie didn’t believe a single word.

The contempt in her voice intensified as she reproached him anew, sounding utterly repulsed. “Killing that janitor and dragging us all to this fucking hell wasn’t enough for you?”

This destabilized Frank for a moment and he almost faltered. He didn’t expect the girl to suddenly bring up their final night in Ormond.

His gut reaction was to be disparaging, less he would lose his grip on the argument. “What the hell are you on about, all of a sudden?” He needed to nip this accusatory undertone in the bud. With a pointed look, he finished with a low but firm voice. “We all killed him. _Together._”

Julie giggled at that, a shrill and mocking thing. “Together?” Her sardonic smile fell off her face and was replaced with a scowl. “Are we just going to pretend that robbery wasn’t your idea? That you didn’t stab him first?”

Frank raised his eyebrows in incredulity.

Oh, she wanted to play the blame game?

He could do that.

Frank took a step closer, eyes staring fiercely into hers. He hissed out, rebuking. “I stabbed him to protect _you_, or did you forget that part?”

The girl met his gaze with matching intensity and also took a step forward. “No.” She shook her head at him and continued, unfaltering. “That’s the excuse you gave yourself. You didn’t _have_ to stab anyone.” She jabbed him with an accusing finger in the middle of his chest. “You just wanted to shed some blood.”

Susie had been witnessing the escalating argument so silently they almost forgot she was with them. She left her seat and walked over to her friends, apparently intending to pacify the steadily worsening argument. Their situation was grim enough, but it was obvious that watching her friends turn on each other had sent Susie into a new layer of distress. Frank was briefly reminded of the blue-haired girl telling them about her parent’s constant fighting, how she was always trying to get away from that.

However, the two were so focused on each other that they hardly paid attention to Susie approaching.

The girl finally gathered her courage and pleaded, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was going. “Guys, please...”

Frank threw a warning glare in the younger girl’s direction, in no mood for her pathetic whimpering. “You stay the fuck out of this, Suz!”

His tone was so harsh that she visibly flinched.

This only incensed Julie more. She spat out fiercely, immediately jumping to her best friend’s defense. “Don’t you fucking talk to her that way! Not after what you did.”

Frank blinked at her, pressing a hand to his chest. “What _I_ did?” He laughed contemptuously, shaking his head in disbelief before finishing maliciously. “You put the knife in her hands yourself, you dumb bitch.”

Julie glared with renewed wrath, hissing out warningly. “Don’t you _dare_ turn this back on me.”

This was obviously a sore subject, the guilt resulting from her part in the whole incident likely eating away at her. Frank understood this and decided to latch on to it.

He cooed out snidely. “Oh, shit, am I wrong?” He tilted his head at Julie with a nasty smirk and pointed his thumb towards the girl in question besides them. Susie’s discomfort with being used as leverage in their fight was plain to see. “I guess it must have been someone else that helped me get little Suz’ to finish the job.”

Julie let out a disgusted cry and shoved his hand away, as if she couldn’t bear his proximity to her friend. “You’re so fucking full of shit, Frank! You always were!”

This only made Frank laugh harder. He felt that he was successfully getting under her skin after all. 

Her fury was still visible but she regained her composure, perhaps trying to deny him the satisfaction. She lowered her voice to a mutter. “I didn’t see it before, but you know, I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She gestured at the decrepit lodge around them with a dry chuckle. “That’s all there is to do around here.”

He shrugged flippantly. “If I’m so full of shit, why’d you stick around all this time?”

She scoffed, her gaze sharp with animosity. She shook her head once and a sad smile grazed her face with the admittance. “You were supposed to be my ticket out of Ormond...” Her voice was low and serious, bitter resentment dripping off every syllable. “But instead, I’m trapped in a worse version of it forever because of you.”

The taunting grin fell from Frank’s face. 

The words impacted him more than he would admit because he knew that she meant them. The idea of being used rather than genuinely adored left a bad taste in his mouth. Of course, in his way, he was also using all of them. Still, the hurt was there, despite his blatant hypocrisy.

He wasn’t about to let her know that, of course. 

Frank recalled the times Julie would tell him about her dreams of the big city. How they should all move to Calgary, then maybe Vancouver. She said they filmed a lot of Hollywood productions there; it could be a good opportunity. He used to humour her. Now, he wanted to knock her down a few pegs. Make her understand that even without The Entity’s influence, she was never going to live out her childish fantasies. 

He laughed derisively, gesturing at her figure. “What, you thought because you’re the hottest chick in some hick town you’d be the next Michelle Pfieffer?” He crossed his arms across his chest and scoffed, pinning her with a condescending stare and a hard tone. “You’d be nothing without me. Just some suburban spoiled bitch.”

If his words hurt Julie, she was hiding it well. She nodded sarcastically, exclaiming with false cheeriness as she waved around them. “Oh, you’re right! Some fucking foster care dropout came along and turned us into Legion. A lot of fucking good that did, eh?”

Frank clenched his jaw and glared dangerously, not appreciating her dismissal of what Legion represented for them all. He was about to remind her of all the freedom and sense of purpose it brought them. How unstoppable it made them feel.

Julie didn’t allow him the chance. She continued with escalating disillusionment.

“Always so fucking good at talking us into whatever you wanted.” She gripped at her hair in frustration, as if the weight of their past finally caught up to her. As if verbalizing her bitterness made her realize the extent of her rage. “The shit we did for you... God, I can’t believe you actually talked me into a threesome with Susie.”

This made Frank guffaw in surprise. Of all the things to suddenly bring up, he hadn’t expected that one. He had suggested it and Julie was more than willing to convince her friend. The tryst hadn’t even meant that much to him; just something he wanted to try out. Just wanted to see how far he could push their decadence. 

He openly laughed before dismissing. “Fuck off. You were more into it than I was.” He leered, pointing between the two girls with a mocking head tilt. “Is that why you lesbos spend so much time alone in your room?”

Susie blushed at the implications and frowned, visibly upset with being once again used in an argument she wanted nothing to do with. She actually seemed like she was about to retort, but Julie put an appeasing hand on her shoulder. 

The young man had expected his homophobic slurs to upset Julie and make her defensive. As he watched her expression morph into a knowing smirk, he quickly understood that he had miscalculated. 

Julie purred with false sweetness. “Oh, you’re sure you want to go there, Morrison?” She leaned closer with a little smirk, lowering her voice tauntingly. “What about what you and Joey did in his room, when his mom was out of town?”

Frank’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected declaration. He hoped shock wasn’t visible on his face, despite his trepidation. He needed to keep it together. 

There was no way she could know about it. He explicitly told the other boy not to tell anyone. If there was one person the tattooed youth had in his pocket, it was Joey. She could have her suspicions, but there was no way she knew for sure. 

He was going to call her bluff. 

He growled out tersely. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Julie tsked in incredulity. “Are you seriously going to deny it?” She tapped her chin with her finger in mock thought, pursing her lips before she continued. “Oh, I know. It’s because you told Joey to keep his mouth shut about it, isn’t it? Told him no one could know or you’d look like faggots.”

Frank felt the colour drain from his face, the likeliness of it being a bluff beginning to dwindle. She had too many details. He felt his throat tighten as he muttered in disbelief, “He told you that?”

She cradled her cheek in her hand in fake surprise, exclaiming sarcastically, “Oh my God, you _really_ thought I wouldn’t find out?” Her tenor changed to a stony seriousness, eyes piercing. “I guess you’re not as much in control of everyone as you thought, huh?”

Frank had nothing to say to that. It was true; he thought he could count on his friend’s unwavering loyalty no matter what. The cold, sinking feeling in his gut from this treachery made him feel ill. 

It was about to get worse. 

Julie finally gained the upper hand and she was not about to relinquish it. If anything, it looked like she had something else in store. Something she had been patiently sitting on. Biding her time.

With a shrewd smile, she tilted her head at him as she teased in a sing-song voice. “Here’s something else you don’t know...” 

She leaned closer, to whisper in his ear this time. She wanted to make sure she had his undivided attention. 

“...I fucked Joe too.”

Frank’s eyes widened. The confession was like a sucker punch and he felt as though the air had been knocked out of him. 

_Joey_, of all people, was hiding something like this from him?

He felt defenseless against the oppressing waves of hurt that washed over him over the betrayal. In his turmoil, he couldn’t even truly decipher who he was most jealous of. 

Frank had been Julie’s whole world ever since he moved to Ormond and caught her eye. He was certain she was dedicated to him, despite the fact that he never seriously intended on being exclusive with her. Once he won her over, he focused his attention on her friends. While he was grooming Legion, he noticed the special attention he was getting from the other boy in their group. How could he not harvest that affection? Joey admired him so, after all. It was laughably easy. 

Frank was so unwaveringly convinced he was the center of both Julie and Joey’s adoration. The thought of them finding pleasure in each other never even entered his mind. 

It was inconceivable.

Joey was his and so was Julie. 

They had no goddamn right. 

Frank clenched his fist so hard, his trembling knuckles turned white. At this moment, he hoped that Myers got his hands on Joey after all. The cold-blooded psychopath might be kinder than Frank would be. 

Julie was watching him seethe silently, but did not stop her infuriating taunting. This was her revenge. “He was real good... Oh, but I guess you already figured that out first hand.” 

Frank knew what she was doing, it was painfully transparent. She was just trying to upset him. But, damn her, it was _working_. He couldn’t even say anything, his mind unraveling, trying to make sense of everything. 

How long had Julie kept this secret? 

Was she just waiting for the right moment to use it against him? 

Did Susie know? 

Of course, she must have. She was Julie’s best friend. 

So they were all hiding this from him? 

“What’s the matter, Frank? Didn’t see that one coming?” She seemed to be getting irritated by his lack of response, judging by her clenched jaw and death stare. She dropped the irony, her true rage bleeding through her words. “Did you think we were just your mindless little puppets?!” 

With those words, she pushed Frank in the chest with all her might. The force of it made him stumble back, their strength equally matched due to the Entity’s meddling. This finally tore him out of his stupor.

As soon as Frank regained his footing, he shoved her back without hesitation with teeth bared in a snarl. Julie showed no surprise or fear in the face his forcefulness. In fact, she stepped forward with the intent of physically retaliating but stopped short as Susie suddenly leapt in front of her.

The blue-haired girl threw her arms around her friend in a desperate hug, shaking her head frantically. She had watched passively long enough. This could end in bloodshed and she had had enough. Distraught, she peeked over her shoulder at Frank in a silent plea for this to stop. Her wide eyes were shimmering with tears. The sight could have melted almost anyone’s heart, but Frank was too focused on his rage to care.

He ignored the girl between them and pointed at Julie, index close to her face and bellowed spitefully. “You’re a fucking slut!”

Frank expected Julie to tell him he was one too. She wouldn’t be wrong. To his surprise, she didn’t resort to the same petty name-calling as he had. Her best friend’s embrace and quiet tears must have swayed her. Or perhaps she already knew that she won. 

Instead, she looked at him with the same strangely steely expression that she had given him the other day in the lodge, when they teased Susie and he took it too far. Her intense gaze, her stony features; she was emitting something beyond anger. Something raw. He didn’t recognize the emotion at the time, but he finally understood now.

It was hatred.

His epiphany shook him. No wonder it seemed so foreign. He had gotten used to nothing but love and admiration in her pretty green eyes. In all their eyes. When did it all change? His hold over his Legion waned without his knowledge.

Julie’s earlier spitefulness was gone and she sounded jaded now. As if she were done with him. She didn’t raise her voice. Her words were cold and resolute.

“And you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.” 

Frank opened his mouth but could not find any words. Not with the way they were looking at him, huddled in each other's arms. United against him. Instead, he swallowed his wrath. He turned his back to the girls and stormed up the stairs. 

The young man felt blood pump frantically in his veins; his unbridled anger flushed his skin to a feverish degree. His stomping feet could not carry him away from the common area fast enough. He reached the sanctuary of his room and slammed the door behind him. Yet, as soon as he found himself alone, his rage morphed into something else. Something worse.

Terror.

Frank let out a choked gasp, unable to hold back the panic threatening to overcome him. He gripped his head in his hands and sank to the floor, back leaned against his bedroom door.

He could barely comprehend the despair that was wrecking him. It wasn’t like the primal fear he felt pinned under The Trapper’s brutish grip, or the dread he felt when he discovered Michael Myers was stalking him. It was deeper. It tapped directly into that vulnerable part of his psyche that he had worked his entire life to suppress.

It all came flooding back with a vengeance.

He was alone now, wasn’t he? Truly alone. He couldn’t count on his Legion, on those adoring bright eyes that gave him purpose. He felt insignificant and unloved. In this moment, he was six-years-old again, locked away and spurned by his mother.

The Entity's whispers were louder than usual, feeding on his despair. That, combined with the ruckus of his own pounding heart, almost drowned out the familiar sound bleeding from beneath his pillow..

Upon hearing the chime of the cell phone, the youth slowly withdrew his head from his hands and stared in surprise. He couldn’t help a throaty chuckle once he finally registered that he was getting a call. It felt like a beacon, pulling him from his abyss. 

Ghostface always had impeccable timing. 

It took Frank a moment to steady his breathing and push himself off the floor. He hurried best he could towards the cell he'd hidden away. 

There wouldn’t be a 38th missed call.

Frank was looking forward to hearing that smooth voice on the end of the line again, having nearly forgotten his grudge. It seemed trivial now. Unfortunately for him, Danny’s charming playfulness was not what greeted him. Instead, a sharp and reproachful voice growled into the receiver. 

“I _told_ you not to ignore me.”

The young man winced slightly, his heart sinking in his chest. Had he been in a usual state of mind, he would have laughed at the other’s anger. He probably would have hung up on him, if to rile him up some more. At the very least, he would have told him off. Would have reminded him that he was the one that was in the wrong, not the other way around. 

Things were different now. 

Frank’s mumbling voice sounded small, even to his own ears. “I know, I was…” He trailed off, running a shaky hand through his short hair. He began feeling afraid again. Terrified that he somehow lost the interest of Ghostface as well. So, he uttered words he hardly recognized himself saying. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

No reply. Only uncomfortable, tense silence coupled with that signature unnerving breathing on the end of the line. 

Frank tentatively licked his lips as he sat down on his bed. This didn’t necessarily mean Danny wouldn’t forgive him; he was always creepy. At least he was still there with him. 

The youth ventured almost coyly, “Where are you?”

The question hung in the air unanswered for a short, tense moment before Ghostface finally broke the silence. The playfulness was back, all previous harshness evaporated from his tone, as if it had never been there at all. Danny’s smooth voice purred out low and mysteriously. “I’ve always been right here, Frank.”

Frank wasn’t sure what Ghostface meant with those ominous words, but at the moment he didn’t care. If anything, there was a strange comfort in them. He didn’t want to be alone. He uttered, trying his best to sound alluring. Probably sounding desperate. “I need you.”

There was a breathy chuckle, dark and knowing, before the distinct ‘click’ of the line suddenly disconnecting. Frank pulled the phone from his ear and stared down at it in bewilderment. He couldn’t even call Danny back if he wanted. Panic filled him anew and he dropped the device on the bed, cradling his head in his hands once more. The fear of rejection so overwhelming and painful, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear it.

But then, he heard a soft knocking on his bedroom window behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor vulnerable Frank (except not really because he's a pretty terrible person), Danny is right there waiting for it like a vulture. 
> 
> There we have it, guys. It took 33k words but we are finally going to get to some of that saucy smut next chapter.  
I'm pretty excited. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.  
Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!


	9. The visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a super long stint of writer’s block, I finally got around to updating!  
Thank you very much for bearing with me.

Frank Morrison slowly lifted his head when he heard a soft rapping on the glass behind him. The knocking was light, as if for his ears only, and he wondered if he imagined it in his distress. He warily looked over his shoulder, half expecting to find nothing more than darkness and snow. Instead, he was met with a white and comically ghoulish mask. The sight was so contrasting with the black of the night that it gave him a start.

The youth blinked, staring dumbly from his bed in disbelief.

The first thought that ran in Frank’s mind was that he was on the second floor and that this little visit shouldn’t be possible. Then, he remembered the proximity of the balcony and the width of the window ledge. Not impossible for someone nimble. Despite his name, Ghostface didn’t float up here; he just crept up with the experience of a man used to breaking into people's homes.

The other killer cocked his head to the side, as if silently asking what was taking Frank so long to open for him. This finally stirred the youth into action.

Frank dropped the phone on the nightstand before getting to his feet and hastily making his way to the window. He pried it open, the dilapidated frame producing a small creak of resistance. He noticed the shaking of his fingers and became annoyed with himself. He hoped the tremors weren’t noticeable. He didn’t want to look nervous in front of Danny.

Frank subconsciously held his breath as he took a couple of steps back, allowing room for his guest to enter.

Ghostface’s gloved hands grabbed the ledge, hoisting himself on the edge of the window, crouched like a stalking predator. The elongated black eyes of his mask were honed on Frank. The youth stared back, unwilling to make the first move or break their gaze. The visitor remained perched this way for a moment, unnervingly still, before finally slipping in with the silent grace of a feline. Even his combat boots landing on the old wood floor were noiseless.

Ghostface straightened, the leather of his coat swooshing lightly, but made no other sound. He glanced around the room intuitively before walking by Frank. Danny barely acknowledged his presence, much to Frank’s incredulity.

The tattooed youth was too awestruck to say anything; rather he craned his neck to see just where his guest was heading. Frank scrunched his nose in repulsion as a strong scent of cologne wafted past him. Did the man _bathe_ in perfume? As silent as Danny was, anyone would be able to smell his presence.

Frank wondered if it was the intent. 

The man strolled with the confidence of someone who had been here before. It would have been alarming had Frank not already been aware of this fact.

Ghostface finally stopped in front of the bedroom door, apparently his intended destination, and promptly locked it. The clicking sound of the old lock felt abnormally loud in the silence that permeated the room. Once done, he slowly turned to face Frank, disturbingly wordless.

Waiting.

Frank understood that he needed to be the one breaking the tension. This interaction appeared to be an extension of Ghostface’s uncomfortable silences on the phone. Intimidation tactics. The youth already felt exposed enough, he didn’t want to give the other man too much power.

So, Frank broke into a boyish grin, crossing his arms over his chest to appear casual. He wanted to sound confident and unfazed. “Hey, Ghosty.” He was good at pretending. The sound of his own carefree voice gave him the courage to walk closer as he teased, “Sure got here fast…” He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Almost as if you were already roaming around like a creep.” 

Ghostface didn’t respond, save for a small, amused sound before nodding with a little ‘you got me’ shrug. 

Frank rolled his eyes at that, already fed up with his mute antics. He never liked mimes. Without much thought, he cheekily reached for the ghost mask. “Take this stupid thing off already-”

Ghostface’s hand shot out abruptly and grabbed him by the wrist with surprising force, wrenching his hand away roughly. Frank's eyes widened in surprise and he gasped lightly, momentarily too stunned for defensive reaction.

Without releasing him, the other killer lifted his other hand and playfully waved his index in a ‘no’ motion. The joking gesture was a stark contrast with his painful hold on Frank’s arm.

With a glare, the youth yanked his limb free, gingerly rubbing at the sore flesh. “Okay, okay. Fucking relax, man. I won’t touch your stupid mask…” He sneered insolently, “You that ugly?”

There was a muffled snort of laughter beneath the white plastic before Ghostface shook his head in amusement. The little joke must have lightened his mood for he decided to comply. He reached for his mask, taking his time removing it, evidently basking in the attentiveness of his reveal.

The face beneath was handsome enough, much to Frank’s relief.

Esthetically symmetrical, with a square jaw and a straight nose. Generically good-looking. Nothing striking. The type of attractive that one would have a hard time precisely describing since there were no discernable traits. The sort of face that could be forgotten quickly and blend in anywhere; perfect for a man that reinvented a new persona every few months.

He was older too, Frank noticed. Older than him and his Legion for sure, but he couldn’t pinpoint by how many years. The man looked like he could be anywhere between his late twenties to his early forties. This likely facilitated adopting various new identities. 

Danny’s black hair was a bit messy and moist from his mask and hood. His iris were a deep brown, almost as black as his pupils. He had a faint five-o-clock shadow and dark circles beneath his eyes, likely the result of all those sleepless nights the man spent stalking. Despite this, he looked alert. His eyes were sharp and gleaming with a playfulness that matched the crooked smirk on his lips.

Ghostface finally spoke, and his voice was as smooth and pleasant as on the phone. “Happy?”

Frank felt relieved. Being able to have a face-to-face conversation with the man after all this time alleviated his unease. Danny was now more than just a voice and a furtive presence. This didn’t mean the youth would stop being insufferable. He countered impudently, “Yeah. Less ugly than I thought.”

Danny winked and fixed his dark mop of hair while waving his other hand playfully, “Oh, stop now. You’re making me blush.”

Ghostface walked past the youth again, towards a dusty and ragged chair in the corner of the room to drop his mask and hood. He was brazenly making himself at home already, even humming a little as he strutted. It was with the same casual easiness that he looked over his shoulder at Frank, “So, what did you want?”

The youth blinked, unsure what the man was referring to, “What do you mean?”

Danny tilted his head, elaborating with false innocence, “You said you needed me. What for?”

That’s right; Frank asked Ghostface to come over for a reason, hadn’t he? The novelty of the other killer’s presence almost made him forget why he beckoned him to begin with. 

Frank felt the dreaded sinking sensation in his gut return as his fight with Julie replayed vividly in his mind. The utter desperation and anguish he felt moments ago washed over him anew. He clenched his fists as discreetly as he could, trying to keep his panic at bay.

What did Frank need?

He needed company.

He needed attention.

He desperately needed distraction.

Frank could find all of this in the man before him. This man who was more than open about his lustful intentions since the beginning of their interactions.

It was time to harvest that desire.

So he replied as sweetly as he could, with a coquettish smile and a small tilt of his head, “Come on, Danny. You know what I want.”

Ghostface snickered and clicked his tongue before walking back to where Frank was, standing mere inches away. He practically purred, dark eyes gleaming with intent. “Oh, I know what you want, Frank.” He paused meaningfully, eyes roaming over the body before him. “Hell, I’ve known before you did.”

Danny leaned in closer, their slight height difference seemingly greater under the intense gaze he was pinning Frank with. He lifted a gloved hand and gently ran the tip of his fingers along Frank’s jaw as he lowered his voice, “I want to hear you _say_ it.”

Frank met the other’s stare challengingly and scoffed good-humoredly. Of course this pervert wouldn’t be happy with vagueness. He smirked and answered without wavering, despite the tingling sensation the touch made him feel. “I want to fuck.”

“No.” Danny corrected him, voice stern, “You want me to fuck you.” The soft touch turned harsh as he gripped his chin, his expression morphing into roguish delight, “Say it right, Frank.”

Frank felt his cheeks heat at the demand. Sure, he may not have as much sexual experience with men, but he was no virgin and certainly not shy. Yet, there was something about having to say it out loud. His earlier confidence was wavering.

Still, he murmured, hoping he didn’t sound as submissive as he felt. “…Fuck me, Danny.”

This seemed to please Ghostface, judging from the lewd smile that spread on his face. He released his grasp on his chin and cooed encouragingly, “That’s more like it.”

Ghostface wasted no time in snaking his hands around Frank, closing the gap between them. The strong smell of cologne engulfed the youth and, perhaps through exposure, it wasn’t as sickening as it seemed before.

Danny murmured, breath tickling Frank’s earlobe as his hands roamed down his back and settled around his waist. The soft coos were replaced with a harsher tenor. He sounded accusing. “Did you like teasing me, Frank?” Perhaps to tease back, he snuck one knee between the youth’s legs, pressing suggestively up against his groin.

Frank wasn’t sure how to reply, or even how to retaliate physically. The near possessive touch felt overwhelming and he bit back a moan, embarrassed at getting worked up so soon.

This was what he wanted, but he realized just how long it had been since he’d felt the intimacy of another body against his. Last time was before his arrival into the fog. Might as well be an eternity. 

Ghostface certainly didn't seem to mind Frank's response to his touches. He continued to mutter darkly in his ear, his voice gravelly, “...Acting all outraged when I asked you to undress for me?” He pressed Frank more firmly against his thigh, hands traveling from his waist to his backside, squeezed the flesh lewdly. He hissed hotly, his tone as unhinged as his touches, “Pretending you weren’t _begging_ for it?”

The lecherous hands on Frank’s ass and the mounting friction between his legs made him buck wantonly against Ghostface. His hands settled on the leather-clad chest before him, trying to find purchase. 

He wanted to tell Danny he was wrong; that he hadn't been pretending. Yet, he doubted he would sound convincing, worked up as he was. The other’s words and hot breath against his ear sent shivers down his spine and he gasped out in response.

The older man stopped his whispers as he caught sight of something gleaming in Frank’s mouth. Danny slipped a thumb past his lips, prying open his mouth further for a better look. “Is that a tongue piercing?” He chuckled before tittering excitedly, “I knew you were a freak.”

Frank blinked a bit, as if he just remembered the body modification. He got it pierced with Julie, back when things were simpler.

Another recollection that seemed so distant, it might as well have been a dream.

They impulsively decided to get it done one Friday afternoon and trekked to the next town over in search for a parlor. The first place they found was questionable at best, with grimy windows and a flickering neon sign. They were greeted by a gruff tattoo artist that didn’t seem enthused by the teen’s presence. No matter. They were fearless together and didn’t hesitate, not while their money was good and they’d come all this way.

They easily sneaked in Frank’s room undetected that night; Clive was already passed out drunk.

Julie ended up staying the whole weekend. Their tongues were swollen and the girl was unable to speak without a lisp. She didn’t want her parents to find out. Frank convinced Clive to call them so they wouldn’t come looking. His foster dad complied in exchange for peace and quiet to drink himself into his usual stupor. 

Cooped up in Frank’s room, the two barely spoke, but listened to a lot of music. They kissed without tongue and fucked with minimal foreplay. Despite this, it felt more intimate and pleasurable than any other times. It was the closest they’d ever felt to one another.

For months after, for every picture they took together, the couple stuck out their tongue to flaunt their matching piercings.

Frank realized that it was one of his fondest memories with Julie. Now, the thought of it hurt more than he could bear. He recalled her steely glare dripping with hatred and he desperately needed to make it go away.

So, he focused on the man leering at him. The taste of leather from Danny’s glove should have been disgusting to the youth but somehow wasn’t. Maybe he was a freak after all.

Still, he shoved the hand away from his mouth with a warning glare. “Yeah…" He smirked provokingly, sticking out his tongue before adding, "Want me to show you what I can do with it?” 

Frank wanted to sound tantalizing. He needed to move things along and forget. 

Danny snickered, eyes gleaming darkly as he gripped Frank’s short hair and pulled it with a hiss, “You’re that hungry for it, you little slut?”

The degrading words and rough treatment flushed Frank and he nodded best he could in the other's hold. He found himself exhilarated in a way he didn’t know he could feel from being insulted. No one had ever talked to him that way before. At least, not in a context like this. 

It should piss him off. Maybe it did, on some level.

It mainly just turned him on.

This was not lost upon Danny’s watchful eyes. With a rapacious grin, he released his hold on Frank’s hair, his gloved hands slipping down to his hips. He steered the younger killer backwards until the back of Frank's knees reached the edge of his bed, then shoved him unceremoniously on the mattress.

Frank fell on his backside with a small, surprised huff. He looked up expectantly at Ghostface, waiting for him to join him. Instead, the older man stared down at him with a smirk and mischievous eyes.

Danny tilted his head to the side slowly before crooning. “Take off your clothes.”

Frank scoffed. Of course Ghostface wanted to watch him strip. He could play along. He wasn’t exactly sure if the other killer was expecting a show or efficiency, so he decided to go with the latter. He made quick work of unzipping his sweater, shrugging the garment off.

Ghostface warned him, with a low voice and narrowed eyes, “Slowly.”

Frank rolled his eyes at the order. It was ingrained in him to be rebellious against anyone trying to boss him around, despite the butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach from the authoritative tone. Despite the heat of his cheeks from being watched with such hunger.

So, after he complied by slowly peeling his black tank top off his lean torso, he made sure to sound sarcastic and bratty. “Better?”

Evidently it was, because in lieu of an answer, Danny simply grinned wider and abruptly leaned forward. He roughly grabbed Frank by the back of the head and pressed their mouths together in a crushing kiss. The suddenness of the embrace made the youth gasp and Danny wasted no time sneaking in his tongue at the opportunity. Frank’s eyes fluttered closed as he kissed back with matching passion.

Frank wanted to show him he wasn't dealing with some passive kid.

And yet, before he knew it, he was on his back with Ghostface straddling his hips. Somewhere in the midst of their clashing mouths and tongues, the older killer had guided him backwards on the bed with his pressing body. 

The kissing stopped as abruptly as it had started and Frank blinked up at the leering figure above him, dazed.

The young man frowned and was about to ask why the kissing stopped. It was making his mind blissfully blank. However, a purposeful rolling of the older killer’s hips against his clothed erection stopped him short with a needy moan. The embarrassing sound earned a laugh from Danny, who rutted against him once more.

Ghostface had an entirely too pleased expression on his face as he watched the boy beneath him. He sounded mocking, "You like that, Frankie?" 

Irritated at the other killer's cockiness, Frank glared up at him and grumbled, "What do you think?"

This only made Danny smile wider. He slipped off his leather gloves before slowly running his hands down the young man’s slim torso, thumbs purposefully brushing his nipples. He was watching with delight the slight tremors his touch elicited. 

Frank arched with the touch but considered smacking that insufferable smug expression off Danny’s face. The older man ignored his ire and unbuckled his bullet belt, making quick work of unzipping his pants. It was almost impressive how skillfully Ghostface freed Frank's flushed cock while never taking his gaze off his face.

Those dark eyes boring into him were too intense, bordering on unhinged, so the youth turned his head to break the gaze. He bit back a whine as he felt the warm hand wrap around his bare erection. He tried to buck up against the touch, craving more, but was pinned down by Danny’s weight.

Ghostface let out a chuckle, “Just look at you…" There was a lustful hitch in his breath as he muttered, "You just can't get enough, can't you, you little whore?"

Frank would have retorted but as he opened his mouth to do so, Danny’s pace picked up and only a moan came out, only proving the other right. So, he closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his pleasured sound at bay. 

The youth heard another snicker and shuffling above him but paid little mind; Danny's skillful hand was all he could focus on. It was only when he heard a distinct ‘click’ and saw a flash of light from behind his closed lids that he finally snapped opened his eyes.

Ghostface had inexplicably pulled out a digital camera, probably from one of the many pockets of that jacket of his. He managed to take a candid shot while he was pleasuring Frank. The man didn’t even have the decency to appear apologetic. Instead, he focused his attention on the snapshot he just took, admiring his work.

It took Frank a moment to register what had happened, too mortified by the sheer audacity of the act. He finally cried indignantly, “Did you just take a picture of me, you fucking pervert?!”

Danny shrugged with a little crooked smile, his smooth voice oozing with guiltlessness, “I couldn't resist, you looked so good…"

Frank stared incredulously for a second before his rage caught up with his vexation. He snarled, flailing beneath the other as he made a quick swipe for the camera. “Erase it before I slice your fucking throat, you piece of shit!”

Ghostface had the tactical advantage of having Frank pinned beneath him, so he easily avoided the grab and held the camera out of his reach. His other hand gripped Frank’s shoulder and pushed him back on the mattress to refrain him from trying again.

Danny smiled down shrewdly, but his sharp eyes were humorless and his voice stern, “You owe me, remember?” He elaborated pointedly, “You said you were going to give me something I wanted. Something I wanted to see...”

A look of recognition broke on Frank’s face as he remembered the promise he’d made in exchange for a gift. He had almost forgotten about it. Evidently, Ghostface hadn't.

Danny tilted his head, his voice low, “This is what I want, Frank.” There was a dangerous undertone in his speech that left no room for negotiation, “I want to see you through my camera.”

Frank didn’t need to see the picture to know it was not something he ever wanted to fall in anyone’s hands. Ghostface’s intentions were unclear, as always. Best case scenario, it would just be masturbation material. Worst case, it was evidence of the youth’s vulnerability that could be seen by anyone Danny decided to show.

The youth gritted his teeth, biting back a string of curse. If looks could kill, Ghostface's head would have exploded by now. 

Perhaps it was due to the death glare coming from Frank, but the older killer suddenly changed his demeanor. Seamlessly, his expression went from calloused to compassionate. 

Danny sighed longingly, putting down the camera and cupping the youth’s face gently instead. He spoke with exaltation, “You were so damn cute, writhing under me. I _had_ to capture it.” He smiled sheepishly as he elaborated sweetly, “I want to immortalize the moment, is all.”

Frank scoffed and looked petulantly to the side, yet couldn’t help feeling flustered by the praise. Danny actually sounded like he meant the compliment. The youth couldn’t recall ever being desired so openly and vehemently. 

Truth was that Frank needed to be wanted more than anything. 

Surely, he could step over his personal boundaries, just this once.

It’s not like he had much of a choice, anyway.

Danny must have noticed the change in the youth’s attitude, despite him trying to keep an annoyed front. He continued, low voice tender and reassuring, “Don’t worry, Frank. I promise it’s for my eyes only. I won’t share you with anyone.”

Frank muttered, throwing Ghostface a warning glower, “You better not.”

The older killer broke into a wolfish grin, obviously thrilled to get his way. His eyes glimmered mischievously as he goaded, “Have I ever lied to you?” 

The question must have been rhetorical, for he leaned down and pressed his lips against Frank’s before he could answer.

Danny’s wandering hands travelled over the youth’s body with an almost ravenous intensity as he deepened the kiss, perhaps looking to take his mind off the picture. Frank was more than happy to do so. He fluttered his eyes closed once more, letting out a sigh through his nose and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck.

Ghostface broke the kiss and finally took off his jacket. He made surprisingly quick work of unfastening the many straps holding it in place before shrugging the garment off. He wore a simple black tee shirt and jeans beneath, though adorned with a tactical drop-leg knife sheath.

With an amused snort, Frank wondered just how many leather straps someone could possibly own.

He didn’t have a chance to reflect too deeply on the subject. Danny was upon him again; mouth latching on his neck rather than his lips and positioned himself between his thighs. Frank parted his legs immediately to allow the older man room to press against him.

Frank let out a small, whining sound as Ghostface nibbled on his neck with a roll of his hips. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Danny, seeking more friction. Without the coat’s leather barrier, the youth felt just how hard the other killer was against him.

Danny groaned in pleasure against the tattooed flesh of his neck, hands grabbing the edge of Frank's camo pants and swiftly pulled them down. The youth lifted his hips off the bed and clumsily kicked off his boots to facilitate the removal. He was vaguely aware that he was now naked while the other was still fully clothed. He’d have to do something about that.

Just as he went to grab the hem of Ghostface’s shirt, the latter grabbed him by the wrists and pinned them above his head.

Danny had a voracious glint in his eyes as he admired the youth’s naked body. Sensing no resistance, he gathered the wrists in one hand and he allowed the other to roam down Frank’s body, stopping at his waist.

The older man tilted his head, hand grabbing his hip almost possessively, voice low and husky, “Have you ever been fucked before?”

Frank had, but only once. It was back in Calgary, in some particularly wild house party that put any of Julie’s to shame. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name; he was too far-gone. He doubted he would have even bothered to ask for it even if he were sober. It felt amazing and that’s all he cared about. Besides, the anonymity of it was freeing. He didn’t need anyone knowing he liked getting fucked like some fag.

He never told anyone in Ormond, obviously. Except for Joey, that was, when it was just the two of them. He kept his homosexual experience vague, wanting to appear mysterious and worldly. It was easier to string his friend along that way. To get him curious. 

Frank snorted, as if the answer was obvious, “Yeah.” He smirked with a little tilt of his head and added tauntingly, “Don’t tell me you wanted to be my first, Ghosty.”

Ghostface sneered with a chuckle, “A slutty little twink like you?" He leaned down to nip at his ear, whispering, "I’m not that delusional.”

The hot, breathy words against his ear shot waves of tingling pleasure down Frank’s frame and he writhed beneath the older man. 

Once the initial sensory overload passed, he registered what was said and muttered under his breath, “Twink…” The youth never heard that term before. It annoyed him. Sounded like some slang and he didn’t like the idea of being left in the dark. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Ghostface laughed openly at that, straightening up to stare down at him devilishly, “It means you were made to take dick.” As if to emphasise his words, he gripped Frank’s hips with both hands and meaningfully thrusted his clothed erection against his ass.

Frank gasped inaudibly, arching up his hips into the motion. Danny’s hands sneaked beneath him then, grabbing one of his cheeks and parting it. The youth felt a blush spreading on his face, the reality of what was about to happen dawning upon him.

Perhaps he shouldn't have implied that he was more experienced than he truly was. 

Ghostface watched him intensively, sneaking a finger between his ass, rubbing his hole in a circular motion. Making the youth squirm beneath him. There was a strange expression on his features, one Frank had a hard time deciphering. 

His low voice had that dark undertone to it, “Who fucked you, Frank?”

Danny continued his teasing, occasionaly prodding against the pluckered flesh, never quite penetrating it. He didn’t wait for an answer to his first question before resuming his interrogation, his voice bordering on threatening, “Was it your little lackey, the one that has a hard-on for you?” 

He smirked unkindly with a tilt of his head, “Is that how you got him nice and obedient?”

Frank furthered his brows in confusion, trying to comprehend what the other was referring to while his senses were alight from the prodding finger. He breathed out, “Joey?” He shook his head with a frown, “No, we never went that far …”

The darkness in Ghostface’s tone alleviated, sounding almost cheerful, “That’s good …” He added with a leer and a hint of menace, “...For Joey’s sake.”

Frank really needed Danny to shut up about his friends. The thought of the other boy knotted his stomach. With a warning glower, he spat out harshly, “I don’t want to talk about that back-stabbing rat.” 

No, Joey and Frank hadn’t gone all the way, but the bastard slept with Julie behind his back. He tightened his jaw, trying his best to push the imagery in the back of his mind. Focus on Ghostface instead; on those hands on his flesh and that hardness pressed against him.

The youth rolled up his hips against the other man’s, urging more needily than he thought himself capable, “How about you actually fuck me instead of just _talking_ about it.”

Ghostface laughed again and pretended to think about the request, humming deliberately before conceding, “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely...”

Frank rolled his eyes but felt the corners of his lips twitch despite himself. He liked this humorous side of Danny. Much better than those sinister glimpses he’d sometimes catch. He grabbed for the hem of the other’s black shirt again and was not stopped from pulling it off this time. 

Danny was slightly wider than him and more muscular, which wasn’t initially apparent beneath the dark clothes. Frank admired the sight and ran his fingers down his chest, feeling a faded scar down his sides. His exploration was interrupted as he abruptly found himself shoved back down on the mattress. 

Frank blinked up at him in surprise and met Ghostface’s mischievous eyes and predatory grin. He flinched in surprise as he felt cool liquid poured between his legs, dripping messily down the clef of his ass. 

Frank didn't even notice the other man pulling out lube. He was almost impressed by Ghostface’s readiness. He was like a perverted boy scout.

The youth snickered to himself at the imagery, but the laughter morphed into a needy moan as he felt the other’s slick hand wrap around his cock again. Danny stroked it from half mast to erection, hungry eyes watching Frank before slipping his hand back down to his puckered entrance. Slicked up as it now was, the pad of his finger breached him and Frank gasped wantonly. 

To his dismay, Danny didn’t fully penetrate him. He retreated his digit instead, earning a frustrated groan and a sullen look from the youth at the incessant teasing. 

Ghostface met Frank’s glare with a thoughtful expression, his smooth voice leveling, “I think we should have a safe word.”

Frank looked at him, puzzled, “Why?”

Danny chuckled, eyes glimmering deviously as he warned with a low voice, “Because you act all brave and whorish, but you’ve never been with someone like me, I promise you that.” He looked down at him with mirth and a crooked smile, cooing haughtily “Who knows if you can actually handle it?”

Frank scoffed in disbelief, the implication irritating him. As if Danny considered him to be frail, somehow. He narrowed his eyes, retorting sourly, “I’m not going to break, Ghosty.” He pointedly added with a mocking smirk, “I bet you ain’t all that.”

Ghostface smirked back and countered with a little warning waggle of his finger, “Everybody breaks, Frank.” He tapped his chin in contemplation, “How about ‘maple’?”

The word seemed random and Frank wondered why the other would suggest it. It was Danny’s amused face that made him understand and raised a brow in disbelief, “Because I’m Canadian?”

Danny grinned widely, apparently very proud of his stupid suggestion, “Clever, I know.” He prompted him excitedly, “Go on, say it.”

The tattooed youth rolled his eyes, but if it would make the other happy and finally move things along, he could humour him, “Map-“

Frank never got to finish. His mouth was suddenly filled with the distinct taste of leather pressing against his tongue. It was so abrupt that it took him a second to even comprehend what happened. Ghostface had effectively gagged him with a long strap of leather he was concealing. The motion was expertingly swift and the knot securely tied with the adroitness expected from a seasoned serial killer. 

The young man glanced up at Danny, confused by the turn of event, but the sight of him made his blood run cold. The expression on the older man’s face could only be described as pure, sadistic delight. The glint of predatory malice in his dark eyes was a startling contrast with the considerate one he had adopted earlier. 

Frank had the gnawing feeling that he was finally seeing Danny’s true face.

At this moment, the youth was acutely aware that he was locked in and unharmed, while Ghostface still had his weapon readily available at hand. 

Danny tilted his head, cupping a hand to his ear jokingly, as if he was trying to hear him better, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that…” 

He laughed obnoxiously at his own joke before he purred, grabbing Frank’s chin, resuming in a more serious tone, “I changed my mind. As much as I would love to hear your pretty screams, your little friends are right downstairs...”

Danny smiled languidly, running his other hand up the youth’s thigh, stopping near his hip. His voice was low and velvety, “I don’t want us to get interrupted. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Ghostface’s eyes met Frank’s wide one, cooing in mock concern, “Are you scared, Frankie?” He smirked as he continued with false reassurance, “Tell you what; I’m not going to tie you up, or anything. So, if it’s too much for you to handle, just hit the mattress three times.” He sneered tauntingly, muttering as condescending as he could in his ear, “Like you’re tapping out.”

Frank felt his fear dissipate at the words and replaced with defiant anger. He didn’t want to give the other man the satisfaction of riling him up. It seemed to just be an extension of his previous patronizing attitude and the youth was more than happy to prove him wrong.

So, he met his gaze obstinately and shook his head no. To make sure Danny understood, he rolled up his hip encouragingly, urging him to get on with it.

The shrewd grin that lit Danny’s face made Frank question whether he had been counting on this response the whole time. 

The young man wasn't allowed much time to dwell on it for the other killer was promptly upon him. He seemed as eager to continue as Frank was.

Ghostface latched to Frank’s tattooed neck with an almost ravenous hunger, biting at the flesh with enough force that the youth flinched and grasped the sheets beneath him. His cries were muffled by the gag and he shuttered as the teeth were replaced by a soothing tongue, licking the sore spot. The contrast between pain and pleasure was dizzying and he leaned into Danny’s mouth best he could, seeking more. 

The rumbling of the devious laughter against the crook of his neck sent pleasant vibrations and Frank reached up to grasp a handful of Danny's black hair. The youth bucked his hips up, rubbing his strained erection against the rough fabric of Ghostface’s jeans, seeking friction. 

Danny finally took mercy upon him and sneaked a hand between them. Frank expected more teasing, circular motions around his lubed hole and keened prehentively. However, it seemed that the other killer was through playing with him. He wasted no time pressing a finger into him. 

He moved the digit in and out, barely allowing Frank time to adjust before roughly shoving another one inside. The sore discomfort was almost too much for the youth, but his small cries were muffled by the strap. 

Just when he was starting to wonder how he could have possibly liked this feeling in the past, Danny curled his fingers and stroked against something inside that made his eyes roll back. He moaned noiselessly in pleasure as his prostate was stroked by the clever fingers. 

He spread his legs further apart to give Ghostface better access, which earned him a throaty chuckle from the older killer. 

Danny let out a pleased groan and encouraged huskily, “That’s it, open up for me, baby boy.” He watched Frank twitch beneath his ministration through half lidded eyes, muttering lustfully, “Didn’t I tell you? You were made for this.” 

Frank nodded enthusiastically, the praise only adding to the pleasure of being fucked open with the other’s fingers. It felt so good that he believed there must be truth behind those words. 

Right now, he regretted not having let Danny do this to him sooner. 

The youth groaned in exasperation against his gag as he felt the abrupt withdrawal of the other’s digits. Before he had a chance to complain further, Ghostface grabbed him by the waist and flipped him over on his stomach. He huffed in surprise, turning to look over his shoulder. He was stopped by a forceful hand on the back of his head pressing him down against the mattress, ass in the air. 

Frank couldn’t see what the other was doing, but he heard the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling. Soon after, he felt the prodding of something slick pressing against his entrance. The young man's neediness was more urgent than his reservations with being taken for the first time in years, so he pressed back best he could against the hard member. 

The youth could practically _hear_ Ghostface’s leering smile as he rubbed his cock against his puckered hole in a tantalisingly slow motion. Infuriatingly teasing without actually pressing inside like he desperately wanted. 

Just when Frank felt like he was about to really lose it, about to fight back against the other holding him down and ride his cock himself, Ghostface impaled him in a long, slow thrust. 

The intrusion was both cathargic and painful. Frank squeezed his eyes shut, breathing best he could through his nose as he tried to get accustomed to the girth stretching him. 

Thankfully, Ghostface seemed to allow him time to adjust and didn’t move just yet. Perhaps it wasn't all altruism, judging from the soft moan coming from the older man. It felt as though he was simply basking in the hot tightness.

It wasn’t long before Frank felt a shallow, almost experimental thrust into him. The pain was still present, but the more the other moved against him, the easier it got. The better it felt. 

The young man arched his hips against Danny’s, and it seemed to be the only encouragement the man needed to stop holding back. 

The pace quickly became fast and brutal, ramming into him with such force he felt his whole body pushed forward against the bed. A bruising grip on his hips held him securely in place, guiding against the thrusting at a punishing pace.

Frank wanted so desperately to grasp his straining erection and stroke himself to completion. The pressure building in him felt almost unbearable. Yet, he couldn’t. Both his hands were braced against the mattress and felt like the only thing holding him from having his head smashed against the headboard from the force of the thrusts. He could only press back against the other mercilessly pounding against his prostate.

Perhaps it was because it’d been so long since his last sexual encounter, or perhaps because he really was as much of a slut that Danny claimed, but Frank ended up cuming untouched. He shuttered helplessly as his seed splattered on the bed beneath him, clenching involuntarily against the hardness still inside him.

Danny’s movement became erratic too, his trust shallower and faster. Frank whined against the gag, feeling suddenly raw and overstimulated. He vainly tried to pull away, but Ghostface’s grip and thrusting was unrelenting. 

He was relieved when the other finally spilled inside him with a groan. The older killer held him there for a moment before slowly slipping his spent cock out of him. Danny slumped forward, draping Frank's back with his flushed body in a loose embrace. 

Frank felt a kiss on the back of his neck, the gesture so oddly gentle compared to roughness of their sex. He sighed in relief as his gag was finally loosened, the corners of his mouth raw from the bond. Danny was muttering against his ear, praising in a soft voice, “You were so good, Frank.” With a small chuckle, he added deviously, “Makes me think that I won’t need to go as easy on you next time…” 

Frank barely acknowledge the words. He was still basking in the blissful afterglow of orgasm. His body was sore and soiled, but his mind was blank. He didn’t even stir when he felt the mattress depress besides him as Danny rose to his feet, presumably to get dressed.

He was only faintly aware of the sound of the heavy front door being slammed open, and the muffled voices of his Legion in the lobby. 

Seemed like Joey had come back. 

Frank would do something about it soon, but not now. 

Now, he just wanted to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally meets Danny in person!  
Not that it's necessarily a good thing for our teenage edge lord... 
> 
> Boy, this chapter ended up being so freaking long.  
I hope you all enjoyed it regardless. The next ones should go back to their usual lengths. 
> 
> Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!


	10. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I'm back!  
I hope you are all doing well and keeping safe in these uncertain times.  
I'm sorry for the long delay and am so glad to finally update.

Frank Morrison couldn’t have been sleeping; there was no such thing in the realm of The Entity. In all the things the cruel deity artfully recreated, the blissfulness of rest was never one It bothered with. This was undoubtedly a conscious choice. No rest for the wicked. Despite this, the young man felt that this moment was the closest he’d ever come to slumber since arriving in the fog. 

He kept his eyes shut, head buried in his pillow, not bothering to cover his nudity under the dusty covers despite the creeping cold. The indistinct voices of his Legion eventually faded away, followed by their footsteps retreating to various areas in the lodge. With his friends' distant mutterings gone, it was easier to ignore his woes. The whispers of the Entity were but a dull murmur, his dread and anxiety successfully pushed back in the recess of his mind.

Temporary peace. 

What felt like hours later, Frank finally stirred. His weary body protested with sharp pangs of pain and he hissed in response. He inspected the damage with tired eyes and saw the bluish discoloration of bruising on his hips and wrists. With a frown, he prodded the swollen corners of his mouth with his tongue and instantly regretted doing so. If the burning sting was any indication, there must have been some evident red marks leftover from his gag. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Despite the familiarity of Ghostface’s pleasant voice, it startled Frank and he snapped his head in the direction of the disturbance. He had thought the other killer long gone.

Instead, Ghostface was seated in the chair in the corner of the room. He was fully dressed, saved for his mask which laid on his lap, and seemed amused by the youth’s reaction. He looked comfortable enough, emitting casual aisance with his head propped in his hand and one leg crossed over his knee. Knowing Danny, it was safe for Frank to assume he had been silently watching his canatonic form the whole time.

Creepy, but what else was new?

Frank rubbed his eyes, asking in a groggy and incredulous voice. “Shit. You’re still here?”

Danny raised a brow and retorted teasingly. “Do people usually fuck you and ditch, Frank?”

Frank rolled his eyes at the insinuation and grumbled. “People don’t usually creep in corners, watching me like fucking freaks.” 

Ghostface seemed as indifferent to his insults as always. He winked and finished flirtingly. “Then they’re missing out.” 

The youth clicked his tongue in annoyance but had a hard time hiding the smile that crept on his face from the compliment. The awkwardness of being the only one nude and the chilliness from the cold air in the room made him reach for his discarded clothes scattered around the bed. He tried his best to hide his soreness as he dressed, but doubted it went past Danny’s attentive eyes. 

His aching limbs were the least of his worry. Without anything to distract him, his argument with Julie resurfaced in the forefront of his mind and with it, the hurt and betrayal. He sat on his bed, visibly troubled, looking down at his fidgeting fingers. He was torn between the urge to storm out to confront Joey and the desire to run away from his problems. The shortsightedness of adolescence made him lean towards the latter. 

But it wasn’t because he was a coward. No. He would confront them later, just … not now. 

Besides, it’d serve them right, being forced to fend off without him for once. Surely they’d be sorry to see him gone. 

His mind made up, Frank turned towards his guest. “Hey, Ghosty …” 

If Danny noticed his troubled state of mind, he made no show of it. He simply tilted his head with a small smile, “Hm?”

The youth wanted to sound casual, impulsive even. The subtle shakiness in his voice probably betrayed the anguish he felt. “Let's get out of here.”

Much to Frank’s relief, the other killer sounded curious, if not mildly enthused with the suggestion. He perked up. “Oh? Where to, Frankie?”

The young man hadn’t thought that far ahead and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before shrugging. “I don’t know, anywhere but here.” He pursed his lips, considering his options. There was only one that made sense, so he suggested expectantly with hopeful eyes. “How about your place?”

Danny blinked, as if the youth had said something strange. “My place?”

Frank frowned, gesturing vaguely towards Ghostface as he clarified, a bit bothered he needed to do so. “Yeah. Your realm, or whatever.”

The older man chuckled and shook his head with a little shrug, “Sorry, Frank, but I don’t have anything like that.”

The youth felt his heart drop as his poorly constructed plan crumbled apart in an instant. He assumed every killer had a place to call their own. A sick pastiche of their previous lives to dwell in between trials. It seemed impossible that Ghostface wouldn't have one. Where was the man spending all his free time? 

Frank shot out tersely, “What the fuck does that mean?” He frowned in disbelief, eyes trained on Danny’s for any sign of deception. “When you were brought here, it was just you?”

Ghostface nodded indulgently, as if he understood how absurd it all sounded, before explaining in a reasonable tone. “I moved around a lot, Frank. When the bodies started to pile up and I got bored with tormenting the cops and the public, I just up and left town. Started fresh with a new identity.” He grinned, evidently proud of his methods. “That’s how I never got caught.” 

Danny looked about the room wistfully, fingers drumming absently on his knee. “I don’t have a special place like you guys. Nothing for the Entity to recreate for me to feel at home.” He sighed, “Killing is the only thing that ever meant anything to me.” 

Frank thought that maybe that last statement was one of regret. However, Danny turned his dark eyes back towards his and the sadistic glint in them showed otherwise. 

Ghostface tilted his head to the side, breaking into a bright, delighted smile that bordered on unhinged. He made a wide, sweeping gesture around them, sounding positively elated. “And it's never-ending here.”

Frank realised then that Danny wasn’t trapped in this hellish limbo like him and his friends. 

He _wanted_ to be here. 

This epiphany, as disturbing as it may be, wasn’t the thing Frank focused on. He was too busy being crushed by the confirmation that he had nowhere else to go. He muttered with downcast eyes, not even trying to mask his disappointment. “Shit...”

Danny’s wide smile fell and was replaced with a concerned frown. Having finally read the room, he left his seat and joined the youth on the bed. He draped his arm over the other’s slumped shoulder and nuzzled the crook of his neck affectionately. Frank let him, but didn't lean into the warm embrace. 

The older killer spoke encouragingly, his smooth voice filled with promise. “I’m not going anywhere, Frank. I like it here and I like _you_.” Ghostface leaned closer to his ear to whisper complicity, running his gloved hand over Frank’s thigh. “I guess you could say I’m ready to settle down?”

The young man groaned a bit, feeling his cheeks grow hot, and shoved the other half-heartedly to hide his embarrassment.

If anything, Ghostface’s statement seemed self-serving and purposefully avoidant of Frank’s actual cause of sadness. Pretty words feeding off emotional fragility.

Yet Frank Morisson heard only one thing; Danny was vowing to stay by his side. He was not going to be abandoned like so many times before. He was wanted. He found a fresh pair of eyes that _saw_ him. Adoringly. Lustfully. 

He needed to believe it to be true. So, he did. 

Once again, Frank couldn’t help the smile tugging the corners of his mouth at the thought.

He turned to look at the older killer, shaking his head as rationality took over and he actually considered the logistics. “You can’t just fucking live here, Danny. The others will notice.”

Danny smirked at that, eyes narrowed mischievously as he countered. “They never have before.” 

This raised more questions, but the troubling implication would have to wait. Frank felt the Entity’s invisible tendrils tugging at his mind, beaconing him for a trial.

The tattooed youth pried himself away from Ghostface’s arms, mumbling as he grabbed his weapon and put on his bloodied mask. “I got to go…” 

Danny remained seated on the bed as he watched him get ready, sighing longingly as if already missing the other’s presence. “I’ll be waiting.” He smiled wolfishly, slapping the young man’s ass as he passed by him on his way to the door. “Kill ‘em all, baby boy." 

Frank let out a surprised grunt in response before good-humouredly swiping at the lewd hand with his blade and retorted, "Fuck off. Like I need some perv to tell me how to do my thing." 

Without further ado, he left his room and his guest and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could.

The last thing he wanted was to run into one of his Legion, so he decided to avoid the main door and lobby all together. Once sure the coast was clear, he left through the second floor balcony, silently making his way down the deserted exterior stairs. 

As the young killer started walking down the snowy path away from the lodge, he was abruptly filled with an inexplicable sense of dread. 

Maybe he subconsciously remembered the lurking danger Michael Myers presented. The insidious maniac was potentially still somewhere on the resort, waiting in ambush. A sensible explanation. Yet, Frank felt deep in his gut that it wasn’t it. 

So what, then? 

Frank stopped dead in his tracks and warily looked over his shoulder. The sight of Danny standing in front of his bedroom window awaited him. The older man had put his signature mask back on and simply stood there, watching him. The two held each other's gaze for a short, tense moment. Then, Ghostface innocuously lifted his hand and playfully waved goodbye with a small head tilt. 

Typical humorous Ghostface mannerism.

It should have made the youth smile and roll his eyes. 

Why did it make his skin crawl?

Frank turned away from the lodge and pressed on towards the black fog waiting to engulf him and take him to the sacrificial grounds. He tried his best to focus on the impending slaughter and ignore this seemingly irrational anxiety gnawing at him. 

To silence the little voice ominously insisting that something was wrong, he put on his headphones and blasted his mixtape as loud as it could go.

…

Frank Morrison was understandably worried about embarking on a trial already sore from sex. The painful backlash of his feral frenzy was already bad enough, he didn’t need an additional handicap. Fortunately, all of that vanished as soon as he was transported to the hunting grounds thanks to the Entity's mysterious rejuvenating powers. The Eldritch monstrosity must have wanted him in peak condition to do Its bidding. 

Turned out that killing was the best remedy for his morose mood. He was fueled by the survivors' anguished cries as they vainly tried to avoid his dirty blade slashing into their backs. They were loud enough to be heard over his music. He imagined their screams to be Joey and Julie’s. He imagined them to be Clive’s. His mother’s. In the end, it was all a frenzied blur and he was soaked in blood. 

No one escaped. The Entity was pleased.

Frank Morrison still felt the residual adrenaline coursing through his veins once he returned to the dilapidated chalet. He brusquely pushed open the heavy front door, the loud impact announcing his return. 

There would be no sneaking around to his room this time. He welcomed confrontation. It looked like he was about to get his wish; he was greeted by the familiar sight of Joey sitting by the fireplace. 

The dark-skinned boy seemed startled by the loud entrance, but relief washed over his face once he saw his young leader. “Frank, dude...” Joey was then quick to jump to his feet to meet his friend's approaching steps. 

Frank hadn't removed his mask yet. Had he, Joey surely would have hesitated. He would have seen the fury twisting the older boy's features. He might have noticed the blood-soiled fists balling up, shaking with rage.

Instead, Joe seemed glad to see him. Grateful, even. As if he had been restlessly waiting for his return. He continued eagerly with a look of concern on his features. “What the hell happened while I was out? Ju didn’t want to tell me anything and Suz was-”

Joey’s words were cut short by a sudden and brutal punch to the jaw. The violent impact sent him tumbling backwards, landing painfully on his back. 

The look of utter shock might have been funny under different circumstances, but Frank didn’t feel like laughing. Those comically wide eyes made it seem like Joey was more surprised than hurt. Thankfully, the way he was clenching his face indicated that pain must have registered too. Joey’s split lip already dripping blood and the dull throbbing of his bandaged knuckles proved that the blow was a savage as Frank intended.

Good. 

Joey hadn’t even bothered trying to get up. He was still trying to make sense of what happened to him. He finally cried out, enraged and incredulous. “What the fuck?!”

Frank scoffed and stood over the other boy’s body, looking down disdainfully at him before pulling out his combat knife. He pointed the blade towards him, hissing through gritted teeth. “I ought to kill you, you lying piece of shit.” 

Joey didn’t seem afraid of the weapon aimed towards him, but looked upset at the idea of being threatened by his friend. He glared up, shouting empathically. “Did you lose your goddamn mind?!” Infuriatingly enough, he genuinely looked like he had no idea why the tattooed youth was mad. “What the hell are you on about?” 

Frank scoffed at that and narrowed his eyes as he crouched besides him, his voice low and dangerous. “Ju told me.”

Joey blinked cluelessly, then sat up to be able to meet the other's gaze with an exasperated scowl. "Told you _what_?"

Frank finally took off his mask and tossed it behind him. He wanted their eyes to meet. He wanted the other to know the extent of his rage. To know how serious this was. He kept his voice low and leaned in close, to make sure Joey was paying attention. “She told me about you two fucking behind my back.” 

The look of recognition that broke over Joey’s face was instantaneous and undeniable. It was all the proof Frank needed. 

That was the unfortunate thing about Joe; those big brown eyes just couldn’t lie. He wasn’t like him or Julie.The kid wore his heart on his sleeve.

Frank, oppositely, kept a stony face to hide the wave of hurt that washed over him at the confirmation. Naive perhaps, but a part of him was still hoping their affair had been a story fabricated by the girl. That she pettily lied to raddle him and cause conflict.

He waited a minute, wondering if his friend would attempt to deny it. Unsurprisingly, Joey didn’t have the gall to outright lie to his face. That wasn't his style. Instead, he only averted his gaze in shame, mouth agape as if to utter some meek apology, but closed it without saying anything. 

Frank’s thirst for physical violence simmered down now. He could punch Joey again and the other would probably let him without fighting back as a form of penitence. He didn’t want to let him off that easy, though. 

He wanted to be as cruel as possible and understood that words would hurt Joey more than anything else at this point.

The tattooed youth tilted his head with a mocking smirk, voice dripping venom. “Why'd you do it, faggot? Did you want another taste of my cock so badly that you'd lap up any cunt it’s been?”

Joey winced at the crude words, their nasty intent visibly affecting him. He sighed, defeated, and shook his head before bringing his gaze back to his. “Frank, it’s not what you think-” 

Frank guffawed, raising his eyebrows before roughly shoving at the other’s chest, cutting him short. He retorted bitingly, “Oh, so you didn’t fuck my girl?” 

Joey allowed the pushing without any resistance but much to Frank’s surprise, his eyes hardened at the words and stood his grounds. He shot out tersely. Defensively. “She’s not _yours_.” 

The righteousness in which he replied pissed off Frank more than anything. As if the other boy had any goddamn right to feel any moral high ground in this situation. Especially since Julie _was_ his. So was he. And so was Susie. He’d worked long and hard to forge them into his Legion. He was the one who molded them into the ruthless gang that they became. They all belonged to him.

Or so, he thought. 

Before Frank could reply, Joey continued. His voice had softened considerably and his eyes averted to the side as he muttered sadly. “You said so, remember?” 

It took Frank a moment, but he remembered. 

It was a weekend that Joey’s mother left town. With no adult supervision, they were free to use the empty house as they pleased. Joe rarely brought anyone over since his hardworking mom had a pretty hectic schedule and returned home unpredictably. So, her planned absence seemed like an opportunity they didn’t want to pass up. 

The girls were busy and couldn’t make it that Saturday night, but Joey was more than happy to invite Frank. 

He was always so happy to do anything with the older boy he idolized.

Frank, in turn, welcomed the opportunity to be alone with him. It had been weeks since he began working on his friend, after all. Little fleeting touches and casual glances when no one was looking. Nothing too overt, but enough to get his attention. Get him thinking. Get him curious. 

It only took a few hours of hanging out and goofing around before the touches lingered longer than they normally would and the glances became more provocative. There were a few beers, but nothing more than usual. Just enough to loosen them up a bit. To serve as potential deniability if the encounter soured. 

Right when things started getting hot, when it was clear to both of them they were heading towards categorically less than platonic waters, Joey hesitated and asked him:

Wasn’t Julie his girlfriend? 

Frank laughed and easily deflected by telling him that it wasn’t like that. Blabbered some bullshit about how he and Julie could be a couple without being tied down by some conventional standards. Not to worry about goddamn small-minded mentality like labels and monogamy. 

It was all the convincing the other needed. In the end, it really didn’t take much. 

Of course Frank found Joey attractive, he wasn’t blind, yet it wasn’t what this was all about. He got Joey to blow him because he wanted to know that he could. 

The other was clearly inexperienced but, always the showoff, he was eager to please and turned out to be a pretty quick learner. When he was done, Frank kissed Joe deeply and, almost as an afterthought, helped to finish him off in return. The older teen immediately praised his friend on his performance. Showered him with approval that the latter ate up as eagerly as he did his cock. 

They hung out for the rest of the night in the same casual way they always did. Their laughter came as easily as before they crossed the line. The only thing that changed was that Joey looked at him with even more adoration than before. Frank hadn't even thought it was possible.

In the end, Frank went on to explain that no one could know about what they'd done. Not even the girls. They weren’t faggots, of course not, but no one would understand. 

It was their secret.

Joey agreed with Frank, as he always did. 

It was perfect. Joey would keep his mouth shut, Julie would be none the wiser. They would both be dedicated to him and he would be free to cultivate their affection. After all this time, Frank hadn’t thought that his manipulations would turn on him. Yet, as obvious as his own hypocrisy was, he saw the glaring flaw in Joey’s reasoning as well. 

Frank chuckled humorlessly, nodding in mock agreement with a bitter smile on his face. “Yeah, okay. I get it, Joe.” He shrugged, continuing reasonably, “Ju’s not officially my girlfriend, so, no guilty conscience.” 

He then narrowed his eyes, harshly grabbing him by the collar as he pulled him close, hissing in an accusatory tone. “That’s why you told me to my face, _right_?”

As expected, a blatant look of guilt washed over the younger boy’s features. From his knotted brow and pained expression, perhaps this secret had been eating at him after all.

Joey shook his head and pried the other's hand off his shirt, explaining apologetically. “Look, I wanted to…” Despite the unforgiving glare Frank was pinning him with, Joey continued. “I know you probably don’t give a shit, but for what it’s worth, it wasn't back in Ormond. It was here and…it just _happened_.” 

The younger scoffed sadly before shrugging. “Ju didn’t want me to tell anyone. I figured, I owed her that much.”

A clearer picture formed in Frank’s mind with the additional details. Their tryst was in this hopeless limbo, in the bleakness of eternal night and cradled by the nightmarish whispers of the Entity. When Julie really started resenting Frank. The time frame made a bit more sense now, but ultimately Joey was right. He didn’t care when it happened. 

In the end, all that mattered was that it represented his loss of control over Legion. 

Granted, Julie and Joey had been friends long before Frank moved to Ormond and swept them all off their feet. He knew Joey respected and cared for her, but in his arrogance, never believed his loyalty could be split this evenly. Never even entertained the notion that if she'd ask Joe to keep a secret, from _him_ of all people, he actually would. 

When did Julie start wielding as much power as him? He was their leader, not _her_.

The thought was nauseating and Frank certainly wasn’t done making Joey feel bad about it. Especially since the betrayal went deeper than just sleeping with his ex. 

Frank sighed, offering indulgently, “Yeah, I get it. Promises to friends are important, Joe.” He tilted his head, finishing acidly with a sharp scowl. “Except, you didn’t mind blabbing to Ju about sucking me off...” 

He changed his tone now, his glare softening into a hurt look, his eyes boring into Joey's. The harshness in his voice was replaced with disappointment, the words barely above a whisper. “Even after you swore you’d keep it a secret.”

Judging by Joey’s distraught expression, the guilt-inducing mannerisms had their intended effect. 

The dark young man shook his head, sounding more regretful than defensive. “Frank, man, I'm telling you it wasn’t like that. She said she already knew. So, I thought you told her…” The forlorn look on his face seemed genuine, but was certainly not enough to earn the older boy's sympathy. Joey licked his bleeding lip, trailing off quietly. “ And.. I …"

Frank clenched his jaw at the revelation, his fist discreetly balling up. Just like that, the last piece of the puzzle fell together. 

Julie must have had her suspicions for a while. She was clever and observant, after all. She would never get a straight answer out of Frank, of course, and knew that all too well. That was fine; she just needed to confirm it with Joey. 

Frank saw it so clearly, it was as if he were there.

She must have waited until they were alone and told Joey she knew about what he’d done with Frank. Dropped a vague accusation and just looked into those eyes that couldn’t lie. At that point, it certainly wouldn’t matter if Joe denied it because she would know the truth. A little cold reading to convince him that she knew anyway and just waited for the other boy to admit the rest of the details. 

Julie used the oldest trick in the book and Joey fell for it like the straightforward sucker that he was. It was laughable. Good thing they never got arrested for the murder of that janitor; the cops would have had a field day with him. 

Frank finished for him flatly, eyes hard. "And you confirmed it, like a fucking idiot."

Joey must have realized the extent of his blunder, remorse lacing his words. “Frank, I’m so sorry. I know you’re pissed, but I swear I didn’t m-” 

The tattooed youth didn’t want to hear his apologies anymore. It grated his nerves and he was done. Violent impulses urged him to punch him back to the floor again. Straddle him and beat him unconscious. He simply felt too weary to do so. Too disgusted. He rose and turned to leave, but before doing so, he shot Joey a dark look over his shoulder.

Frank scoffed once, stating pointedly. “You know she was just using you, right?” He smiled at Joey like he was a pitiable thing, finishing cruelly. “She never cared.”

To his surprise, it was Joey's turn to chuckle. It was a dry laugh that didn’t reach his dejected eyes. “You know, it’s funny...” He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head in amusement as he finally got back to his feet. “She said the exact same thing about you.” 

His smile faded and his voice hardened, solemnly. “I didn’t want to believe it, though.” The young man shrugged and continued with a heartbreaking simplicity and earnestness, “‘Cause I know that you guys are my friends, but fuck me, right?” 

Frank was unmoved by the words because it didn't matter to him anymore. He couldn't count on Joey's love the way he did before, and wouldn't any longer. His harsh response reflected that fact. “Yeah. Fuck you.” He finished with cold resolution before fully turning away. “I’m not friends with punk-ass traitors.” 

He heard the other boy call after him adamantly, “Frank, wait-” 

Frank didn’t. He was already heading up the stairs without looking back and slammed his bedroom door noisily behind him.

…

Frank wasn’t alone for long. 

Thank God for that. Left alone with his thoughts without distraction, he might have started second guessing himself and his actions. Might have thought too hard about what his Legion meant to him. About his abandonment issues. About his coping mechanisms and his resulting cruelty. About what love meant to him. About his subconscious need to create a surrogate family. 

The young man didn’t hear Danny enter his room. The other killer was impossibly silent, as always, but he smelled him. 

The overwhelming waft of cologne engulfed Frank as leather clad arms wrapped around him. Ghostface’s grasp meant the death and suffering of countless victims, yet to Frank, it felt like a lifeline. Presently, he needed Danny’s presence so desperately that he would have agreed to anything the man would have asked. Some self-preserving part of him hoped the other didn’t realize this, but this was dwarfed by his immediate neediness. 

Frank was pulled close against the older man’s body and felt a hardness press against his back. The young man was puzzled at first, but recognised its source now. 

It was Danny’s camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to that juicy angst I warned about in the tags.  
Poor Joey is just getting used and I feel pretty terrible for doing him like that. Future chapters with him might make up for it, though. :')
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, comments and suggestions are always welcomed. 
> 
> Side note: The next lore we're getting in the rift is Legion and I'm low-key terrified that they will undo all the characterization I've established in this fic. I guess I'll just have to nervously wait and see...


	11. Dangerous Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out and many thanks to the awesome Andouilles for beta-reading this chapter for me!

A semblance of normality eventually settled in Frank Morrison's life. Anything can become normal once one gets used to it – once routine settled. Trials continued to take place; flesh still needed to be sacrificed for purpose beyond any mortal’s understanding. The oppressing presence of the Entity still ominously ruled over all. As countless times before, the young killer returned to his realm after the ritualistic killings, sore and blood soaked. 

The cold snow continued to fall endlessly without ever truly altering the white landscape frozen in time. As always, the ice crunching beneath Frank’s boots was the only thing breaking the unnatural silence that encompassed the mock Ormond. When he pushed the heavy wooden doors open, his eyes scanned the lobby to see if his Legion were around the fire. Just like he used to. Only, the intent wasn’t the same.

Before, he would have looked forward to finding members of his Legion loitering around in the common area. Now, he dreaded it. It would always be followed by hard stares and icy silences. Unspoken resentfulness and tension that Frank was simply too stubborn and angry to address. 

Thankfully, no one was on the couches at first glance, but Frank heard a familiar scraping on wood. He knew it to be Susie before he even spotted her huddled figure bent over a table. She was back at her annoying quirk, carving restlessly into the furniture with her blade. Random patterns, crude words and doodles that would be mended away by the Entity in due time. Despite her ratty hood and long pink hair hiding her face, Frank knew she was anxious about something. It was evident by the irritatingly noisy vandalism and her gripping nervously at her scalp.

The whispers must have been torturing the young girl again, but Frank didn’t care. He was done trying to comfort Susie. Granted, he had less animosity towards her than the rest of his Legion, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to be cordial. Without giving the girl a second glance, he wordlessly made his way towards the stairs to retreat to his room. 

Abruptly, the scraping ended. The silence that suddenly filled the lodge wasn’t enough to make Frank stop, but Susie’s voice calling out to him did. It was shaky yet oddly resolute, “Frank?”

Frank sighed, throwing an exasperated look in the girl’s direction before answering in a curt manner. “What?”

His tone made Susie falter as he stared at her hostilely, impatiently waiting for her to speak her mind so that he could blow her off and be on his way. 

That’s when he saw it. 

He initially thought it was a shadow, or a trick of the light from the flames flickering in a peculiar way. Much to his dismay, he saw it once more. It was unmistakable this time. There was a shape furtively moving behind Susie. A man clad in black, donning a distinctive and all too familiar plastic mask.

Frank's heart dropped and he felt the blood drain from his face.

Ghostface was lurking in the lobby, standing just a few feet behind the oblivious girl. God only knew for how long he'd been in the room with her. His figure was concealed by one of the wooden pillars until now. The stealthy killer must have been aware that Frank spotted him, for he boldly stepped out of his hiding spot. 

Frank felt his throat tightened and his heart beating frantically in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribcage. Why was Danny here? Was this some sort of sick joke?

It would seem that the young man’s apprehensions were not shared. Danny was poised and absolutely noiseless in his approach. Impossibly so. Susie appeared none the wiser, despite the older man’s proximity. Despite him being able to simply reach out and touch her if he felt so inclined. 

Ghostface slowly lifted his arm and Frank’s eyes widened, a cry caught in his throat. However, his gloved hand didn’t go for the girl, but to his mask. He playfully mimicked a shushing motion. 

As if this were a fucking game.

Frank gritted his teeth, doing his best to stay calm despite his mounting anxiety morphing into anger, boiling inside him. He kept quiet and looked back at Susie. Last thing he wanted was for her to get curious and follow his eyes. 

Susie didn’t seem to have noticed anything. Her blue eyes weren’t focused on the tattooed youth anymore. They were downcast, seeming hurt by his harsh response. Perhaps misinterpreting the source of the perturbed and angry look twisting his features. Likely thinking she was the cause. 

Good.

“Nevermind,” she murmured, shaking her head. Susie grabbed her blade from the table before getting up with a scoff, throwing a glare in Frank’s direction. “Don’t worry, I’ll be getting out of your face.”

Ghostface moved again, at the same time as Susie, his motions quiet and fluid. Frank had expected him to hide but infuriatingly, he remained hidden in plain view. As if he knew exactly where to step to remain out of the girl’s sight despite her being in the same room as him. As if he were predicting her movements. 

Frank clenched his jaw, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide his shaking hands threatening to betray him. He didn’t dare move. He just wanted Susie to leave as soon as possible. She just had to keep walking and not look behind her. He averted his eyes, muttering harshly. “Yeah, you fucking do that.”

Just as Susie walked past Frank on her way to the stairs, when it seemed like they were in the clear, she stopped dead in her tracks. She let out a small, inquisitive hum, as if she'd just noticed something amiss. She scrunched up her nose with a frown, “What’s that smell?”

Frank blanched at the words.

Shit.

Of course she would notice Danny’s overwhelming perfume. Frank always did; it was how the silent stalker announced his presence. His calling card. In retrospect, it seemed almost impossible that she hadn’t noticed before. 

Susie didn't know that, though. She couldn't possibly know. He could lie. Make her doubt. 

Frank kept his face stony, raising a brow, trying to appear as dismissive as possible. He was confident in his poker face, yet his voice sounded terse and small. “I don’t smell anything.” 

Susie scrutinized the older boy for a moment and leaned a bit closer, inhaling in his direction before exclaiming in surprise. 

“It’s you.” She took a step back from him, blinking in confusion and tilted her head incredulously. 

“Since when do you wear cologne?” She put a hand over her nose, adding bluntly. “It reeks.” 

Frank blinked back, almost as shocked as she was. 

He didn’t wear cologne. 

Yet, now that the girl pointed it out, he noticed it as well. The tangy iron stench of blood wasn’t enough to cover it. Evidently, Danny’s smell rubbed off on him without him even noticing. It was a stomach-turning realisation. Like he was marked, somehow. 

He didn’t see Danny’s face, of course. Still, he _knew_ the latter was grinning like a madman beneath his mask. He could practically feel the smugness oozing off that insufferable smirk. 

“I don’t remember asking your fucking opinion, Suz,” Frank spat at Susie aggressively, his tone making it apparent he wasn’t open to further discussion. 

She clearly got the message, for she rolled her eyes and resumed walking sullenly, muttering beneath her breath. “Whatever…” 

The tattooed youth warily watched the girl head up the stairs and turn the corner, either heading towards her room or Julie’s. Didn’t matter to him, as long as she was gone. 

He clenched his shaking fists, rage visibly apparent of his features now that he hadn’t any reason to hold back. He fully intended to give Danny a piece of his mind. Yet, when he looked back towards the main lobby, Ghostface was nowhere to be seen.

… 

Frank Morrison came to understand that there was very little he could do to stop Ghostface when the man had an idea in mind. The youth wasn’t a wimp by any means. His reckless impulsiveness was a trait that shaped his life, for the better or worse. He certainly wasn’t above mischief and violence, especially if it meant a good time. That being said, even he had limits, and it was really starting to feel like the older killer did not. 

Danny Johnson was a very hard man to say no to. Even Frank’s self-preservation instincts weren’t enough to stop him from going along with his propositions. At times, he hardly felt like he had a choice at all. Yet, a small part of him knew this to be a lie. He could assert himself. Hell, he used to rebel needlessly, against anyone, just to be contradictory. 

No. It was the fear of losing another pair of adoring eyes that kept him docile. Frank needed their gaze on him, no matter how dark those particular ones were. However, this was the part of his psyche he got very apt at ignoring. Those kinds of truths about himself were too painful. 

This is how he found himself in this situation, trying the best he could to hold back a moan after a particularly well-aimed thrust. That in itself was nothing unusual with Ghostface, except that they weren’t behind closed doors. They were in the upstairs hallway of the lodge, exposed to the prying eyes of anyone that might walk by. 

It all happened so fast. 

Frank Morrison had been heading towards his room as usual. Except this time, he was interrupted by a gloved hand muzzling him before finding himself shoved roughly against the adjacent wall. A hungry mouth devouring his replaced the hand, leaving it free to slither down and greedily grope his lithe body instead. 

Frank couldn't even say a word; his attempt was silenced by hard teeth and an invading tongue. By the time the feverish kiss relented, the teasing friction of the clothed hardness pressed against his and those exploring hands left him too breathless to speak. Dizzied and craving more, he couldn’t find the will to tell Ghostface to stop. He told himself that it must be because he did not want him to. 

Right now, release seemed more important.

They both remained dressed, Frank’s pants brashly pulled down just enough to expose his ass. Danny then hoisted him up by the back of his thighs, his back pinned against the wall. He instinctively wrapped his legs around the other’s waist for support. 

Crushing lips against his stifled whatever mewling sound the young man would have made from the hastily slicked member prodding his entrance, slowly pushing inside him. 

Frank was grateful for the lubrication, at least. It certainly didn’t seem like Ghostface would bother with any further foreplay. Considering their precarious location, this was probably for the best.

He was used to Danny’s cock after all their times together, but the lack of proper preparation still burned. He let out a small whine of protest at the intrusion, nails digging into the other’s back as he clung on to him. He might have objected more verbally if he weren’t afraid of drawing the others’ attention. 

Ghostface grinned wolfishly, making it painfully obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing. 

The older man chuckled low in his throat, eyes gleaming deviously. He leaned in close, nibbling on Frank’s earlobe before murmuring hotly, “Shhh… Don’t make a sound.” 

“You wouldn’t want the others to hear, right?” He taunted, voice low and whispery. 

Frank threw a warning scowl his way, opening his mouth to curse at him, but a sharp thrust turned the words into a wanton moan. This was all the time the young man was given to adjust before Danny started fucking him against the wall. The wet, slapping sound of their flesh must not have been so loud, but fear of being heard made it seem deafening to Frank’s ears. 

He had a hard time stifling his moans and judging from the irritatingly smug look on Danny’s face, the latter knew this all too well. Needing to keep quiet, the youth buried his face into the other’s shoulder. He bit down on the leather, gagging himself, and shook his head no in response. 

With a pleased hum, Danny nodded back, purring against his ear in that low, smooth voice that drove Frank crazy. 

“I wouldn’t either. It’d ruin the fun…” He continued mischievously, a little breathless from the exertions of holding the other’s body up as he mercilessly fucked into him, “But the thrill of getting caught, that’s fun too.” As if to illustrate his point, Ghostface grabbed a handful of Frank’s short hair and forced his head back against the wall. 

Without Danny’s shoulder muffling him, the youth had to bite his lips painfully to keep his lewd sounds at bay. Frank wanted to glare. He wanted to look upset. Yet, the mounting pleasure flushed his cheeks and twisted his expression into something obscene. 

Danny admired the sight with half-lidded eyes. Enflamed, his pistoning hips moved faster now, the pace almost frantic. He chuckled breathlessly and leaned his forehead against the younger killer’s, black eyes boring into his as he rumbled low, “I never get caught, Frank…But what’s life without taking some risks?” 

Frank closed his eyes, the hot breath against his and the punishing pace becoming too much. He was so close. He just needed a little more. His cock was pressed flush against the leather of Ghostface’s coat, rubbing against the fabric. Just enough to tease but nothing more. He managed to slip a hand between their bodies, grasping his flushed erection and stroked himself to completion.

It seemed like Ghostface had been on the edge for some time, perhaps only waiting for him to finish, for he almost immediately came inside him with one deep, final thrust. Danny left out a small, guttural groan against the crook of the youth’s neck, pausing for only a second to catch his breath before slipping out of him. 

Before Frank knew it, he was left alone and shaky, braced against the wall. He barely caught a glimpse of Danny noiselessly slipping into his room and closing the door without looking back. 

The young man had gotten used to Ghostface telling him how good he’d been after he’d pushed him to do something he wanted. Something out of his comfort zone. The approval always made it seem worth it, somehow. 

Without it, he just felt used. 

As post-orgasm clarity finally hit him, the implications of what happened fully dawned upon him. His shame turned into anger. Rational thought returned and reminded him that he needed to get out of this damned hallway. It was a miracle no one came out, he wasn’t about to push his luck. 

Frank quickly pulled up his pants and marched to his room best he could, his rage allowing him to ignore his unstable legs and soreness. He took a lot of self-control to keep from noisily slamming the door shut behind him. Instead, he stomped over to Ghostface, grabbing him by the lapel of his black coat, his teeth bared in a snarl. 

Danny did not seem worried about the furious teen before him, despite the death glare and manhandling. He raised his hands in mock self-defence, an entirely too pleased grin on his face. 

Frank shook the infuriating smiling man before him, his voice a furious hiss. “Are you out of your Goddamn mind, you fucking pervert?!”

The young man had made it very clear after the stunt with Susie how he felt about close calls. That if Ghostface was going to stick around, they had to be discrete about it. The latter had nodded indulgently and told him he understood. That it wouldn’t happen again. Promise. 

Despite this, the older killer had the nerve to faint cluelessness about the cause of Frank’s ire. He tilted his head innocently and retorted with a little shrug, “You seemed pretty into it.”

A mortified blush heated Frank’s face and he cried in outrage, as if the loudness of his voice would cover the redness of his cheeks. “That’s not the fucking point, asshole!”

With a roll of his eyes, Danny pried the youth’s hands off his collar and muttered, “I know, I know…"

He smiled sheepishly and sighed, lamenting airily. "You’re just so damn cute when you get mad. It can’t help myself ...” 

He suddenly grabbed the young man’s chin, his facial expression morphing into something darker, despite the large smile that still adorned it. He leaned in close as he finished predatorily, his voice low, “It makes me want to play with you.”

“Play with me...” Frank frowned and repeated in disbelief. He shoved the hand off his chin, freeing himself and stepping back. He shook his head, incredulous, and scoffed bitterly. 

“Is that what I am to you, Danny? A fucking game?” 

The other gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest in mock mortification before he shook his head, “Oh, baby boy, don’t be silly. Not a _game_.”

Frank, further irritated by the facetious response, crossed his arms sullenly and turned his back to him. 

Ghostface stepped closer to the sulking boy, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Despite the lack of response, he pulled him flush against his body. His voice was soft and soothing, but there was a depravity lurking behind the outward sweetness of his tone. It was meant to sound playful, surely, but it sounded cruel. Mocking.

“You’re more like a toy, Frank.” He smirked, leaning his head on Frank’s shoulder, purring into his ear. “My little toy.”

The young man felt a shiver run up his spine at the words, disgusted by the implications. He tried to tell himself that Danny must have meant this as a joke, because everything was always a joke to him, but Frank wasn’t laughing. He tried to squirm away from the other’s embrace, hissing bitterly, “Fuck you.” 

Ghostface didn’t seem to notice how upset Frank was getting. Or perhaps, he didn’t care. He simply chuckled, pulling him closer still and ran a teasing hand over his stomach, reaching for the zipper of his hoodie. “Again? Well, if you insist...”

Suddenly, the killer paused his ministrations and released Frank with a disappointed huff. The youth’s fury wasn’t enough to stop him, but the Entity’s orders evidently were. He shrugged and winked, “Afraid you’re going to have to wait. Duty calls ... ” 

Frank didn’t reply. He shoved him away from him roughly and sulked towards his bed, letting himself fall unceremoniously on the dusty mattress. He laid there, arms crossed, silently seething. 

Danny laughed and shook his head, before he walked off to the corner of the room where he’d left his ghost mask. Once ready to embark on his trial, he pried the window open, about to slip out the same way he always did.

Before departing into the darkness, he looked over his shoulder, and blew the sullen youth a kiss. “Don’t worry, we’ll play some more later.” 

Frank flipped Ghostface off without looking his way. 

Long after Danny’s departure, the young man still brewed. He reflected upon the fact that once again, the older killer didn't take him seriously. It was beyond infuriating. He told himself that he was better off alone, surely. He almost managed to convince himself.

Yet, the truth was that this conviction would only last until the fear returned. 

Until the empty walls of his room would feel just like those from his miserable childhood. Back when he was small and helpless, with a mother that didn’t love him. The dread would overwhelm him. That cold panic he could never name would take over. Then, he would crawl right back to Ghostface’s waiting arm. 

…

Unnatural silence permeated the cold winter air of Ormond's ski resort, as usual.

The oppressive presence of the Entity was metaphorically breathing down Frank Morrison’s neck as he left the chalet. It urged him to hurry towards the black fog that would take him to the sacrificial grounds for yet another trial. 

He was threading down the snowy path unenthusiastically, as would any typical adolescent forced to do a chore. His bandaged hands were nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets, absently toying with the combat knife sheathed there. As soon as the blade would tear into his first victim, his feral frenzy would take over and ignite his bloodlust.

Right now, however, he wasn’t really feeling it. 

Just as he was about to reach the black fog, he stopped dead in his tracks. His placid state must have dulled his senses for his intuition didn’t kick in until this very moment. It was the whispers suddenly buzzing adamantly in his head that tipped him off. They were otherworldly and indecipherable but he still understood it meant danger.

Now that he was standing perfectly still, without the sound of his footsteps crunching the snow, he could hear something.

It sounded like breathing. 

The young man broke into a cold sweat and slowly craned his neck to look over his shoulder. 

Frank barely had time to register the frightening sight of the tall figure looming behind him, before it's large hand lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat. 

The strong grip choking him was immediately followed with the disorienting feeling of getting lifted off the ground. Instinctively, Frank thrashed the best he could against his aggressor. His feet kicked wildly and fingers clawed into the forearm effortlessly picking him up. 

All his struggling didn't seem to make a difference to the unmovable force restraining him. 

The vice grip around his neck was mercilessly crushing his windpipe, squeezing the breath out of him. Suspended in the air like this, he found himself at eye level with the black holes of an emotionless white mask that he recognised all too well. 

Michael Myers. 

Silent and insidious as ever, Frank never heard him coming. It had been so long since their last encounter that he had almost forgotten about him. 

Evidently, The Shape hadn’t. 

Frank gaped in shock, his wide eyes brimming with terror hidden behind his grinning mask. Michael Myers stared back silently and slowly tilted his head to the side. The almost child-like mannerism a staggering contrast with the pure, malicious intent radiating off the bogeyman. 

The tense moment lasted but a fraction of a second before Frank felt the sharp, agonizing burn of Michael’s blade viciously piercing his gut. Despite all the violent acts he had committed, the debilitating pain of getting stabbed was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The sickening, wet sound of flesh being torn seemed much louder when on the receiving end.

He opened his mouth to scream, but in lieu of sound, only blood oozed past his lips. The crushing hold on his neck kept him from crying out. 

Michael’s breathing was louder now, almost laboured behind the latex of his mask. Evidently, he was enjoying the sight of Frank squirming under his knife. He twisted the blade with a small flick of his wrist, almost experimentally. As if mindful to not to finish his prey off just yet, if only to watch him suffer a little longer. 

The unbearable agony of the knife twisting cruelly in his innards finally snapped the tattooed youth out of his stupor. He wasn’t going to die like this. Not without fighting back. He reached for his combat knife hidden in his pocket with a trembling hand. 

Michael seemed none the wiser and Frank was not about to waste his opportunity. Fueled by raw adrenaline, he viciously plunged his weapon into the arm holding him. 

The larger killed groaned in pain, almost animalistically, but still did not let go. So, Frank stabbed him again and again. Quick, merciless jabs, reminiscent of his feral fury during a trial. 

Finally, his efforts paid off. The grasp on his neck loosened and he was able to break free. The youth fell heavily on the snow, gasping in a moist, gargled breath. The gaping wound in his abdomen pulsed ruthlessly and he covered it best he could with his shaky hand. He could feel the warm blood flowing copiously between his fingers and pooling under him, staining the once white snow with red. 

The sight was nauseating but Frank had no time to worry about that. An unrelenting monster like Michael Myers wouldn't be stopped so easily. 

He had to leave. Now. 

The tattooed youth wasn’t able to get to his feet, injured as he was, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to make it to the nearby fog and he would be carried away to safety. He scrambled backwards in the snow as fast he could, keeping his eyes on The Shape, who still seemed preoccupied with his own injuries. Frank didn't stop crawling until he felt the blackness of the Entity's embrace engulfing him.

Once he’d breached the fog and found himself completely enveloped in darkness, Frank let out a wet, bloodied laugh, almost hysterical with relief. 

He fucking did it. He’d gotten away. 

Or so he thought.

Abruptly, a large hand pierced the black fog, blindly reaching out and grasping the air in front of it. Despite the invisible resistance of the fog, it was followed by the rest of the arm forcing itself through, right up to the broad shoulder. Finally, the nightmarish sight of the white mask started pushing through.

The silent man's expression was hidden, of course, but Frank could see the seething rage in those pale eyes targeted towards him. They held the unrelenting intensity of the embodiment of evil. 

Paralyzed with fear and too weakened from blood loss to defend himself, the young man felt himself sink into despair. Truth was, despite everything, he didn’t want to die.

One might say Frank’s life actually ended that fateful night in Ormond, at the tender age of nineteen, when he was damned to the realm of the fog. Objectively, he knew that death was no escape from hell. Yet, all this still couldn’t quash the primal fear and suffering he felt at this very moment- bleeding out helplessly, at the mercy of this insatiable maniac.

Just as the Shape was about to grab a hold of Frank’s ankle, the sharp claws of the Entity suddenly surged from the abyss. 

The cruel appendages pierced The Shape's palm and pulled it back viciously while other tendrils tore the dark blue fabric of his arm, cutting into the flesh. 

Much to Frank's horror, the Eldritch monstrosity's interference didn't seem enough to fully stop the bogeyman. Myers was still struggling to move forward, forcing more sharp apendenges to come out of the darkness and rip into his limbs. 

A fight between two unyielding forces. 

Frank Morrison would never get to witness the end of their struggle. He felt himself fade away, pulled back into the abyss. 

He briefly wondered if it was death's embrace claiming him. 

Yet, before he knew it, he blinked and found himself mysteriously transported in the middle of a forest. He could hear the soft dripping rain gently falling around him. The smell of the wet woods was familiar, as was the sight of a broken generator that laid a few feet in front him. Something he’d seen hundreds of times, yet it seemed so surreal at the moment. 

No more Michael Myers, no more darkness. He glanced down at himself in a start, clutching at his stomach, expecting to find his guts hanging out. Yet, his injuries were mysteriously healed, as if nothing happened. The Entity had protected and rejuvenated him, but certainly not out of kindness. 

No. It was because Frank had a job to do. 

The young man understood what was expected of him, yet couldn’t bring himself to move. The horrific events that just occurred replayed vividly in his mind. He could almost feel the phantom pain of the knife gutting him. He could almost hear the laboured breathing of his attacker over the drizzle. 

One generator was repaired. Then two. When the third one lit up in the distance and the spurning of the Entity became undeniably aggressive, Frank took a big, shaky breath and composed himself. He gripped his blade and finally advanced into the woods in search of the survivors.

…

The rest of the trial went as disastrously as one would expect. Frank Morrison didn’t manage to secure a single kill, despite the element of surprise on his side. A lot of injuries and a few hooks, but no sacrifices. The Entity was displeased but that, of all things, was the least of his worries.

The walk back to the lodge was filled with trepidation and paranoia. Frank couldn’t take two steps without anxiously looking over his shoulder. Of course, there was nothing but snow, bushes and dilapidated skiing machinery. It certainly appeared as if the Entity managed to banish Myers from Ormond. 

For the time being, at least. 

There had to be certain rules the killers needed to abide by and killing one another was evidently forbidden. They were all slaves to the Entity and It must not appreciate the destruction of It’s property. 

With this, Frank rationalised that the chance of another ambush on his walk home was almost null. 

He was safe. 

For how long, Frank did not know. 

A nasty little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Michael Myers didn't seem the type to be bound by any rules. 

The temporary illusion of safety certainly did not erase his dread or the visceral recollection of the recent attack. It must have been painfully apparent on his ashen face as he quietly entered his room and removed his bloodied mask. 

Obvious enough for someone like Danny Johnson to frown in concern at the sight of him and rush to his side.

The older man tilted his head and placed his hands on Frank’s shoulders, his smooth voice uncharacteristically affected. “What’s wrong, Frankie?”

The youth blinked at the earnest face before him, slightly taken aback. It was unusual for sure, yet he was certainly relieved to have someone to confide in. He used to be able to count on his Legion, but of course this was no longer the case. He only had Danny left and, as of late, he wasn’t sure what to make of the latter’s intentions. This caring behavior was a nice change of pace. 

So, Frank met his dark eyes and spoke with candor. He tried to sound hardened, if not angry, to hide the weakness he felt, “Michael fucking Myers attacked me.”

“_What_?” Ghostface sounded shocked, his eyes widening as he placed a gloved hand on the young man’s cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. “Oh, baby boy..." 

Danny promptly led him to the bed and sat down, patting the empty spot next to him as an invitation for Frank to join him, which he did. His smooth voice was laced with concern.

"Tell me exactly what happened.”

So, Frank nodded and told him.

He did his best to recount everything exactly as it happened while hiding the fear in his voice. All things considered, he did a good job masking his tremors. He kept his eyes low, hands on his lap balled in fists to keep them from fidgeting nervously. 

Ghostface let him speak without interruption, seemingly enraptured by the tale. Once Frank fell into silence, he inhaled a shaky breath. He leaned in close, placing a hand on Frank’s thigh and squeezed the flesh as he whispered in his ear, a strangely husky quality to his voice.

“Tell me again how it felt, when he grabbed you by the throat and squeezed the breath out of you...” 

The tone was so jaring with the gravity of the situation that Frank almost did a double take. He sharply turned his head to meet Ghostface’s gaze, hissing irately. “How the fuck did you think it felt, Danny?” 

It was then that he finally saw the look on the other killer’s face. The sadistic shine in his eyes and the hardly suppressed grin. The man looked nothing short of elated. 

The realisation hit the youth like a ton of bricks and he stared incredulously at the older man, voice low with in disbelief. 

“Oh my God. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

Danny cocked a brow and feigned cluelessness, but a devious smirk tugged the corner of his lips. It was as if he weren’t even trying to pretend. 

Frank shoved the other man away from him and leaped to his feet, furious. 

“Holy shit, you _are_, you unbelievable asshole!” Frank laughed bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief and running his shaky fingers through his hair. He threw Danny a disgusted glare, shouting aggressively with a pointed finger in his direction. 

“This is all your fucking fault and you don’t even give a shit!”

Ghostface only stared at Frank with blank composure, as if silently analysing the situation. Calculating his next move. He then suddenly snatched the hand pointed at him and pulled the angry teen towards him with surprising ease as he got up in one smooth motion. 

Frank gaped in surprise, taken aback, and tried to pull his hand out of his grip.

Danny's stony facial expression fluidly morphed into a concerned one, his tone soft and forlorn. “Shhh, baby boy, no…” 

He allowed Frank to angrily yank his hand away, but continued to close the gap between them, despite the youth backing away from his advancing steps. 

“Don’t be silly. Of _course_ I care.”

Frank shook his head with a glare, muttering bitterly under his breath, “Bullshit.” 

His back eventually hit the wall, and Danny placed both hands on either side of his head. He tilted his head, locking eyes with Frank as he continued sweetly, 

“Didn’t I already tell you? I didn’t mean for any of that to happen...” 

Frank scoffed and turned his head to the side to avoid his gaze, but the older man grabbed hold of his chin and gently turned his head back towards him. Danny continued with a sad smile on his face, voice laced with remorse. 

“Don’t you remember? We were just playing a little game and it got out of hand.”

The young man recalled the apology note left on his nightstand and the dozens of calls that followed. He also remembered not buying a word of it at the time. What could have possibly changed between then and now? But the truth was that things were different then. He didn’t need Danny. 

But now … 

Well, now he was willing to listen. 

Danny must have sensed Frank’s reluctant openness to his explanations, despite the youth’s sour facial expression and sullen silence. He sighed, as if exasperated with himself and shrugged apologetically. “You have to understand, Frank, I’m just so damn curious. I mean, I was a reporter. It’s in my nature.” 

Ghostface moistened his lips and his voice lowered as he continued. “…And Myers, well, I’ve admired him for a long time." 

The older man chuckled a little, averting his eyes to the side in coyness as he admitted sheepishly, "When I was a kid, I used to cut up news articles about his murders and put them in a scrapbook.” 

Danny finished with a whisper pressed in Frank’s ear, as if sharing a naughty secret. He sounded wistful, if not a little smitten. “He’s my inspiration...”

His gloved hand left Frank’s chin and ran down his arms, passifiyingly. He added in a whispery confession, voice so low it was hardly audible.

“I’ve seen how he fucks, but I’ve never seen how he kills...”

Frank frowned and pulled away from the mouth pressed to his ear, troubled by the admission. He remembered the phone call after his confrontation with Evan MacMillan. Ghostface was a goddamn Michael Myers fanboy. He remembered being revolted at the time. 

Now, he felt something akin to jealousy. It was distracting. It was upsetting him for the wrong reasons. 

This confession just reinforced what Frank already knew about Danny’s sick games. About him spying on The Trapper and The Shape like a pervert. About him using his knowledge to trap Frank for his own amusement. 

So, why wasn’t he more angry? Why was he pettily wishing Danny only had eyes for him?

There must have really been something broken inside of Frank. 

Danny Johnson probably knew that all too well. 

The older killer wrapped his arm tighter around him as soon as he started feeling the sullen boy attempt to pull away. As if he guessed what was on Frank’s mind, he continued lovingly. 

“But you’re right. That doesn’t matter…” He kept him pinned against his body as he continued in that soothing tone, occasionally nuzzling his hair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here Frank.” 

The words were soothing and sounded sincere. The touch was gentle and Frank didn’t feel like struggling against him anymore. It was easier to believe Ghostface because the alternative was much too bleak. So, he sighed and leaned into the embrace. 

“That’s right…” Danny smiled wickedly as he felt Frank melt against him. He then kissed him on the temple, his voice a low murmur, “You’re mine and you’re safe now.”

Frank closed his eyes and nodded against his shoulder. Yet, deep down, he knew that only one of those two statements were true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghostface is really starting to show his true colours here.  
We're nearing the end, so do expect to see just how far Danny will take things in the next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and suggestions are always welcomed.


	12. Opened door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the incredible Andouilles for beta-reading this chapter for me.

Frank Morrison was starting to feel the telltale soreness in his legs from the hard wooden floor he was kneeling on. He had been in this position for far too long, but not from lack of will on his end. He knew he was performing well so far, judging by the soft sighs and the gloved hand stroking the back of his head almost lovingly. The gentle touch was a stark contrast from the harsh way Danny had pushed him on his knees earlier and kept him there for an uncomfortably long stretch. 

Danny had him practically beg for his cock before finally unzipping his pants and roughly shoving the youth’s opened mouth towards it. 

It wasn’t always like this, but it seemed Ghostface felt particularly theatrical this time. 

The lewd, wet sounds of his efforts and the older killer’s breathy moans in response were encouraging, but Frank wanted to see that he was doing well. So, he glanced up, mouth full, hoping to catch a glimpse of Danny’s face. He found it hidden behind the camcorder pointed towards him. So, he closed his eyes and doubled his vigor, opening his mouth and lapping obscenely. Purposefully letting his tongue piercing rub over the red, swollen head of Danny’s cock. 

Might as well put on a show for the camera. 

There was a time Frank was mortified by the idea of a suggestive snapshot being taken of him. Now, starring in Danny’s amateur pornography almost felt _normal_. 

It had all been so gradual. His worries were playfully shushed away at his every objection, only to have the boundary pushed further the next time. He barely even noticed the progression. The ramifications seemed meaningless next to the lust filled approval he earned. 

Frank didn’t need to see Danny’s face after all. There was an unmistakable hitch in his breath and Frank could hear the broad smile in his smooth voice. 

“That’s right …” The older man purred, his fingers running through Frank’s short hair encouragingly. His voice changed tenor, sounding throatier. Nastier. “Swallow me whole, like the good little whore you are.”

Suddenly, Danny’s hand grabbed the back of the youth’s skull and forced him down on his cock. The abrupt push left no time for Frank to brace himself and he felt the hardness hit the back of his throat painfully. Judging from the pleased sound that rumbled out of Danny, this was no accident. 

Frank’s eyes widened in surprise, tears prinkling the corners of his eyes as his breath was cut off by the intrusion. A visceral choking sound escaped him as the forceful hand kept him in place. He felt his face redden from the lack of oxygen, his fingers digging into Danny’s thighs instinctively in objection. Almost as suddenly, as if Ghostface knew exactly what his limits were, he released him to allow him to inhale a shaky breath from his nose. 

There was only a second or two of respite before the hard pace started again, thrusting deep into his throat as far as it would go. The hand on the back of his head guiding him down his length none too kindly. Frank couldn't do much more than just take it, letting himself get used like a toy.

He hated when Danny fucked his throat this brutally. Frank told him, once. The latter tilted his head at him pitifully, like he was a child, voice oozing with honey. He'd said that he was so sorry; he just thought he was tough enough to handle a little rough play.

Frank was exasperated with himself for how much he wanted to prove that he could handle anything, despite knowing that the words were just meant to vex him into compliance. The most frustrating part was how painfully hard Frank always got just from getting his mouth used like that. Especially since Ghostface always made sure to point it out when they were done. It made him doubt. Maybe the older killer was right after all and he liked the treatment more than he let on. 

Almost as abruptly as it started, Frank felt his hair tugged back, yanking his wet mouth off Danny’s cock. He glanced up through half-lidded eyes, dazed. His swollen lips parted as he drew in a ragged breath and wondered why the other suddenly stopped. Frank’s answer came in the form of hot splatter landing on his face. 

It took the tattooed youth a second to comprehend what had just happened, but once the realization hit him, his blushing face twisted with disgust. 

Ghostface let out an elated sigh at the sight, seeming to enjoy Frank’s soiled and irritated mug as much as he did his orgasm. He grabbed him by the chin, pulling him closer to the lens, as if posing him for the perfect shot. 

“Aren’t you cute, all covered in jizz like that.” Ghostface tilted his head from behind the camcorder, smirking mischievously with a wink. He finished adoringly. “Pretty as a picture.” 

Frank groaned and pulled his chin free, wiping away the semen best he could with the sleeve of his hoodie. The words somehow made him feel more embarrassed than the lewd act, so he spat out grumpily. “Fuck you.” 

The young man got back to his feet, wincing slightly in the process from the strain in his knees. He glared at the older killer, pushing the camera out of his face as he spat out. “You get off on being a total asshole or what?” 

Danny finally put away the camera, most likely due to getting the footage he was after rather than to make Frank happy. He closed the gap between them with an indulgent smile, wrapping his arms around the sore youth tenderly. He leaned his forehead against his, cooing in that sweet tone he used to defuse all of Frank’s ire. 

“Don’t be mad, Frankie. You did so good…” 

With a knowing smirk, he sneaked his knee between Frank’s thighs, pressing at the erection trapped beneath the camo pants. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And it sure looks like you enjoyed it, doesn't it?” 

Frank’s breath hitched at the touch but he stubbornly didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Danny chuckled and his gloved hand snaked around his waist as he pulled Frank flush against him, continuing in his low, gravely voice filled with promise. 

“So, how about I return the favor, baby boy?” 

The young man had to admit that despite his annoyance, his arousal was pressing and he very much wanted that. With a scoff, he smirked back, his brown eyes meeting the black ones provocatively. 

“After all this, you better make it good, perv-” 

They were interrupted by sudden knocking on Frank’s door. The unexpected intrusion made the latter practically jump out of his skin, eyes cagily darting towards the sound. Danny didn’t seem as startled as him, but he did loosen his hold, with dark eyes alert in the direction of the disturbance. 

This never happened before.

Both men looked over to the source of the noise, motionless. Apprehensively waiting to see if a second knock would come. 

When only silence followed, Frank let out a sigh of relief, only to suddenly have the rapping resume more adamantly than before. It was accompanied by the call of an all too familiar feminine voice- one normally so timid. 

“Frank? Come on, just open up already. I know you’re in there.” 

Though muffled, the voice was unmistakably Susie’s. Knowing the source made it no less surprising. In all their time in the fog, the girl had never come to his bedroom like this. Yet, not only did she come knocking, but it also didn't look like she'd be giving up and leaving any time soon.

Frank bit his lip with a frown and turned his gaze to Danny, searching his face for guidance as to what their next move ought to be. 

The obvious solution would be for the other to sneak out the window as he’d done so many times before. They could resume their tryst some other time. That being said, Frank was starting to get to know Ghostface and his infuriating ways. He was a man that prioritized thrill over common sense.

Danny looked back at him with an unreadable expression, the gears clearly turning in that inscrutable mind of his. He finally shrugged, a playful smirk forming on his face, and left Frank’s side. Before the youth could stop him, he headed in the direction of the door. 

Frank’s heart skipped a beat and was about to vocally object, until he realised Ghostface wasn’t intending on answering Susie. Rather, he stopped by the corner of the room. From this position, he would be hidden by the opened door, assuming he remained still and quiet. Considering his stealthiness, this was more than feasible.

Danny leaned against the wall casually before waving Frank towards the door with raised brows and a small head tilt. 

No words were spoken, but the meaning was obvious. 

What are you waiting for? Take care of it. 

In his incredulity, Frank hadn’t realised that he had remained frozen in place like a deer stuck in headlights. A third, louder knocking seemed to support Danny’s suggestion. 

So, Frank squared his shoulders, regained his composure, and nodded affirmatively in response.

He could never be quite as poise under pressure as the seasoned serial killer, but he just needed to remind himself just who was waiting for him in the hallway. Despite everything that happened, he was still positive he was able to handle his Legion. Especially naive little Susie.

He walked confidently towards the door, stomping his feet to make sure his visitor heard how annoyed the disturbance was. 

Donning the most unwelcoming expression he could muster, Frank took one last breath before finally unlocking the door and prying it partially opened. He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance in the off chance that the girl decided to peek inside. 

He grumbled bitingly, eyes hard and narrowed. “What the fuck do you want, Suz?”

With the amount of aggression in his voice, he was almost certain that she would mumble an apology and leave him be. Yet, much to Frank’s surprise, Susie didn't seem deterred by his rude greeting. 

Granted, her fidgeting fingers betrayed her uneasiness, yet her voice was unwavering and her eyes met his assertively. “I heard something…”

Frank scoffed at the vague implications and took on a mocking tone. “That’s why you’re here bothering me? Because some little noise scared you?” His voice turned cruel and his gaze cold, “I’m not your fucking babysitter. Go cry in Ju’s tits.”

He thought that would be it. 

However, Susie pressed on. She shook her head, eyes brimming with a certainty that almost seemed out of place on the usually skittish girl. 

“Not noises. I heard _voices_.” She finished pointedly, “It came from your room, Frank.”

Frank felt his eyes widen in surprise before he caught himself and hardened his glare. Last thing he wanted was to betray Danny’s presence with a poor poker face. 

As he had done in the past with Julie, he figured blatant denial was the best strategy. Especially with a troubled killer plagued by the haunting whispers of the Entity like Susie.

The tattooed youth laughed humorlessly and shook his head in annoyance. “Are you fucking serious? This shit's getting old...” 

He rolled his eyes with a sardonic smirk and waved her off patronizingly. “Look, I don’t know what you _think_ you heard and I don’t care. There’s nothing here, so just fuck off already.” 

Frank went to slam the door in the girl’s face, but much to his bewilderment, he felt a force stopping him. He frowned in confusion but quickly found what was blocking him- Susie’s palm. 

He glanced away from her hand braced against the door, about to object, but shut his mouth at the sight of her. Susie’s face was reddened and twisted in indignation. She hissed through gritted teeth, sounding dead serious and angrier than Frank ever thought she could be. 

“Stop acting like I’m stupid, Frank. I’m not.”

Susie wasn’t stronger than him, but she certainly had the element of surprise on her side. That, coupled with the undeniable rage fueling her words, she was able to make quick work of shoving the door open. The force of the push and the intensity in those blue eyes made the flabbergasted Frank stagger a couple of steps back. He never thought her capable of standing up for herself in this manner. He wasn’t prepared for it. 

Susie took advantage of his retreat and boldly entered the room. Her glare pinned the older teen as she continued, “And I’m not crazy, either. I _know_ what I heard.”

Frank was probably a comical sight, bug-eyed and mouth agape as he was. At the present moment however, no one was laughing. The harsh expression on Susie's young features also made it clear that she wasn’t through with him. She must have held her tongue for so long, there was no way she would stop now. 

“It's so obvious that something’s going on here, but everyone’s too fucking stubborn to say something about it!” Susie practically shouted, pointing exasperatedly at the older boy and closing the gap between them.

She lowered her hand, fists clenched by her sides, trembling with frustration. “I’m sick of this bullshit, Frank!” Her voice, though no less angry, now cracked with emotion, as if a dam broke inside her. The older boy saw that her rage was laced with sorrow. 

Frank had found himself subconsciously backing away from her approaching form as he vainly tried to find the words to defend himself. 

The words never came. 

Truth was he never considered that the coldness and distance between his Legion could have caused the girl this much pain. He also never entertained the notion that she might feel something was amiss, aside from their discordance. Or that she might be more perceptive than her freckled baby face let on. 

Frank had been so focused on his own sentiments and personal drama that he never spared his friend a thought. 

At the moment, he felt the inexplicable and foreign urge to apologize. 

Not that it would matter now.

Perhaps Frank had been too distracted by Susie’s outburst to notice. Or maybe it was because everything was done in absolute grace and silence. Whatever the reason, he didn’t detect Ghostface’s approaching form until the latter was standing directly behind the oblivious girl, like an ominous black shadow. 

As soon as Danny’s dark eyes met Frank’s, a devious smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. Exactly like he had done before, when lurking in the lobby, he slowly lifted his gloved hand to his smiling lips in a shushing motion. 

Frank almost audibly groaned in frustration but managed to bite his tongue. He didn’t feel like playing Ghostface’s little game again. He glowered at the older killer, discreetly shaking his head no. 

Susie, still clueless, frowned at him and opened her mouth again to resume her berating, or perhaps to question Frank on his strange behavior. The young man would never get to find out. Danny’s gloved hand suddenly lunged forward and covered her lips, forcefully pulling her head back.

Frank let out a strangled gasp, too shocked to voice out the ‘no’ trapped in his throat. 

The gleaming reflection on the blade was the only indication that Ghostface had drawn his weapon. The gesture was too seamless. 

The sharp knife sliced through Susie’s pale throat with sickening ease. Once done, the killer released his victim almost as swiftly as he grabbed her. The whole act was so fluid and nimble that neither Frank nor the hapless girl seemed to process what had happened. It wasn’t until a second later- when the blood flowed copiously out of the fresh wound- that the horror of what just took place dawned upon the teens. 

Susie’s bulging eyes, brimming with pain and fear, searched Frank’s brown ones and she parted her lips, as if to plead for help. The wet, bubbling gargle that escaped her mouth was almost as nauseating as the sight of the blood gushing out of her wound from the effort. Despite his stupor, Frank felt the hot droplets land on his cheek. The young girl must have seen them too, for she instinctively reached for her neck in a vain attempt to stop the hemorrhage. 

Her other trembling hand reached forward to grab on to the older boy, but never made it. She fell heavily on her knees, staring vacantly at him as life drained from her, before finally falling over on her side.

The pale, lightless eyes remained opened. The scarlet blood continued to pool beneath her, staining the mop of pink hair feathered around her now immobile form. 

Frank gawked in horror at his friend’s body for what felt like an eternity but must have been only a short moment. Lifeless and drained of blood as it was now, the sight felt surreal. It was like looking at an uncanny replica. A pale white doll in the shape of Susie. 

His own limbs felt heavy and numb; he simply couldn’t budge. Frank’s ears were inexplicably ringing, so much so that he hardly heard the sound of his own voice as he finally managed to utter,

“What the fuck did you do?”

Frank finally tore his eyes away from the fallen corpse to gape at Ghostface, who was wiping the blood off his blade in the palm of his glove. The motion was done so casually, as mundanely as one would do the dishes. The pure look of indifference on his face as he did so churned Frank’s stomach. 

Once finished, Danny blinked at him, as if he didn’t understand the nature of the question. He tilted his head innocently, gesturing vaguely towards the body with his blade before sheathing it. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I took care of it.” 

The look of dismay Frank gave in response to his simplistic explanation made Ghostface sigh and he elaborated in a rational, if not condescending, tone. 

"You’re the one that said you didn’t want the others to know I was here.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face that was meant to humour him, as if it were the youth that was being unreasonable. “Well, she never saw me, did she?” 

Frank stared incredulously, at loss of words at the absolute gall of the remorseless killer standing before him. 

There was no way Danny could genuinely believe that this is what he meant. Frank never would have wanted this, no matter how angry he might have been with his friends. It was so senseless. Ghostface could have remained hidden. He could have allowed him to defuse the situation and have her leave before she saw anything. 

The tattooed youth finally answered, but it sounded a little above a murmur, “You didn’t have to kill her.” 

Perhaps vocalising the words helped actualise what just occurred, for he became more furious as soon they left his mouth. He clenched his fists and finally found his voice again. He was shouting now, “Why would you do that?! You didn’t have to do that!” 

"Oh, come _on_, Frank." Ghostface actually laughed at him. He was shaking his head in amusement, as if the young man had said something ludicrous. "We’re killers; it’s what we do.” 

Once more, Frank was speechless. He gaped helplessly, dread washing over him at the implication.

There was no pretence in Ghostface’s answer, no facade for once. 

It was just that easy for Danny Johnson- Killing was killing. 

It didn’t matter who and it didn’t matter why.

Frank was a murderer too, but not like that. He killed that janitor due to his impulsive violent temper, but it was ultimately to protect his Legion. The rage triggered from seeing Julie get grabbed sent him into a frenzy he couldn’t control. And, granted, Frank killed those nameless survivors the Entity fed to them- but so what? He didn’t care about them. They were hardly even human in his eyes. It felt more like a game than anything. 

Susie was different. 

He pictured all the times he ruffled her colourful hair or teased her about her braces to get a laugh. He thought about their messy, if not awkward, first kiss during their threesome with Julie. He thought about her bright, goofy grin when she excitedly barged in the lodge to show off the new band sweater she successfully shoplifted. 

Seeing her motionless of the cold wood floor of his bedroom made his heart sink to his stomach.

A little voice in the back of his mind tried to remind him that death wasn’t permanent in this world. It couldn’t be. They slaughtered the same victims over and over again, after all. It had to be the same for the killers. Yet, whatever small comfort came with those thoughts was dwarfed by his memory of the agony and terror he felt while on the receiving end of Michael Myer’s knife. 

That pain was real- realer than most things he felt in this foggy world. Realer than the puffs of cigarettes he shared with his Legion. Realer than the never ending blizzard that surrounded them. 

Susie’s fear filled eyes didn’t lie when they met his, begging for help as she felt the life drain from her. Suffering senselessly because of circumstances out of her control, reaching out for someone she thought could help. Someone she looked up to and followed to this hell. Someone who, once again, inadvertently brought her misery. 

How could Frank possibly live with this? 

Certainly didn’t seem to be an issue for Danny, though. 

It wasn’t just the moral implications of killing senselessly that the other killer seemed to brush off. There were rules in this realm. Did those not apply to him? Didn’t Ghostface feel it? The Entity’s disapproval at what he’d done?

Frank certainly did. 

The oppressive scorn of the Eldritch monstrosity was quashing Frank, the whispers louder now that he’d gotten over his initial shock. It was clearly angry at the death of one of It’s slaves. The otherworldly oppression mixed with his grief and rage was almost overwhelming. It made him feel nauseous and he had to cover his ears with his hands for a moment to steady himself. 

The other killer, however, seemed completely unaffected. Almost as if the Entity’s discontent didn’t reach his mind. Almost as if he were exempted from punishment. 

And perhaps, selfishly, what stung the most was that Ghostface didn’t seem to worry about how Frank felt about the whole ordeal. A naive part of him hoped that his thoughts and feelings might have meant something to Danny. That he was _special_ to him, the way he claimed so adamantly with those sweet words he’d whisper in his ear. 

But the older man didn’t even bother _pretending_ to care. It shouldn’t be a surprise, of course. No. This wasn’t any different than how Danny had treated him in the past. 

Yet, this time, it felt like something shattered inside. Something akin to heartbreak. Perhaps because now he wasn’t the only one that had suffered at his hands. 

Danny, meanwhile, simply closed the bedroom door and secured the lock before making his way back to Frank, none the wiser to his inner turmoil. He callously stepped over Susie’s dead body and closed the gap between them, taking the youth by the waist and pulled him close.

He purred out seductively, eyes gleaming with intent. Astoundingly, he was clearly planning on resuming their previous activities, as if he hadn’t just slaughtered his friend in cold blood. “Now where were we…?”

The young man felt repulsion as soon as he felt the warmth of those hands around him and he violently pushed the other off him with a shout, “Get the hell away from me!”

His gaze met Danny’s surprised one as he spat out acidly, eyes filled with contempt and disgust, “Don’t you _ever_ touch me again, you goddamn psycho.” 

Ghostface scoffed a bit at the outburst and took a step forward, an amused look on his face. He opened his mouth to cajole the youth into submission as he’d done so often in the past. Frank wasn’t going to allow him the chance. 

Not this time. 

Frank held up his finger in warning as he backed away from the older killer, wishing he had his knife at hand instead to emphasise his stance. "I fucking mean it, Danny." He spoke emphatically, needing the other to understand he wasn’t joking. “Not now, or ever.” 

It certainly seemed like it worked, for Ghostface’s teasing smile finally fell off his face. It was replaced with a carefully blank facade, dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable light. 

He contemplated the young man before him silently for a short moment before he tilted his head and spoke in a careful, smooth voice. “You’re being hysterical, Frank.” He finished calmly, but with a cold edge barely suppressed by the superficial suavity of his words. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Frank shook his head in disbelief, laughing bitterly at the other’s audacity. Once again, Danny was undermining him. Wouldn’t fucking listen. Frank’s jaw clenched with rage, fist curling with the instinctive urge to punch the older man in the jaw. Through a show of self-restraint he didn’t know he processed, he managed to breathe in a sharp inhale and try again with words. 

"Do I really need to spell it out, you sick fuck?” 

He felt tears of frustration sting the corners of his eyes but continued with a steady but hate-filled tone. 

“I want you to get the fuck out of here and never come back. I never wan-" 

Frank never got to finish that thought- the hand that snapped forward and gagged him made sure of it. Before he knew it, the charging body advancing on him pushed him down on the bed. It was astounding how quickly it all happened. 

By the time Frank even thought about thrashing against his aggressor, both his arms were painfully pinned on the mattress by Ghostface’s straddling knees. The latter was sitting heavily on his chest, restraining him further with his weight. It didn’t matter how much Frank was kicking beneath him. In this position, the youth simply didn’t have the leverage to push him off.

The ease and rapidity in which Danny incapacitated him was a sobering reminder of the man’s years of experience at dealing with struggling victims. It didn’t stop Frank from trying though, eyes glaring daggers with a promise of violent retaliation the instant he broke free. He was wildly whipping his head from side to side to get that hand off his mouth. He didn’t stop until he felt the distinct feel of a sharp blade firmly press against his jugular.

Frank stopped moving then, locked eyes with Ghostface's and froze. The cold anger oozing from his gaze felt more menacing than the knife against his throat. The young man had only caught fleeting glimpses of that darkness before but now it was like staring directly into the abyss. 

Having earned Frank’s undivided attention, the older man leaned in close and he spoke in a smooth, if not saddened tone, hot breath tickling his face.

“I really like you, you know?” The softness and hurt of the words were a disturbing contrast with the cruel and icy look hardening his features. “I thought you felt the same way about me.” 

Danny frowned and tilted his head, contemplating him with a bemused look, “I mean, why else would you let me do all those things to you?” His tenor suddenly changed and he hissed cruelly, sounding repulsed with the youth beneath him. “Are you really that much of a depraved slut?”

Frank’s breath hitched at the sudden change in demeanor, yet he did his best to remain stony eyed and defiant. He just had to remind himself that this was just another one of Ghostface’s games. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to his jeers. 

Danny stared down at him with that cold disdain for an uncomfortable long stretch before he broke out into a tittering laugh. Once the eerie giggle died down, he shook his head in disbelief, “You have no idea what I’m capable of, do you?” 

He smiled indulgently, running his blade up and down the youth’s tattooed neck in a demented caress as he cooed, “It’s my fault, really. Since I like you so much, I’ve been a little too soft on you. I never hurt you the way I could...” 

His words suddenly hardened again as he pushed the tip of the knife against the tender spot of flesh beneath Frank’s ear, the skin breaking under the sudden pressure. “The way you _deserved_.”

Frank instinctively gasped from the unexpected pain beneath the hand gagging him. It was then that he noticed that the leather glove was still wet with Susie’s blood. He practically heaved and tightened his lips to keep the copper taste from seeping in his mouth. 

Ghostface watched him squirm for a moment before pulling the knife away from his neck as suddenly as he’d pressed it. He rolled his eyes with a sigh and a tilt of his head, as if he were exasperated with himself, 

“See? Even now, I can’t bring myself to do it.” He narrowed his black eyes as he added in an accusing tone, “Even with you saying those terrible things to me.”

He licked his lips and leaned in close once more, as if he were letting Frank in on a naughty secret. His voice had that playful quality to it as he whispered in his ear, 

“But your little friends? They mean nothing to me. I don’t have to hold back at all. I was playing nice to make you happy, baby boy…”

Danny pulled back, staring down coldly at Frank, all amusement gone from his face. There was a stony, hardened look in his eyes. “With you acting the way you are, being hurtful like that,” his low, deep voice was laced with malice, “Well, I don’t see why I have to play nice anymore.”

Frank’s eyes widened at the words, genuine dread taking over at the implicit threat. As much as he wished to appear unaffected, he knew that his defiant composure was falling apart. He felt his heart beating harder, surely Ghostface felt it too, straddling his chest as he was. From this close, he must have seen the fear in the youth’s eyes as Susie’s death replayed in his mind. 

As if he read his thoughts, Danny’s eyes darted to the cooling corpse and chuckled, “You know, little Susie here had it easy, all things considered. A clean cut for a quick death; she didn’t even suffer much.”

Ghostface’s face lit up, a large grin splitting his features in deranged glee. “And the suffering is my favorite part too!” His face fell and he pursed his lips in a petulant pout, poking Frank in the chest resentfully. “You see how much restraint I showed for your sake? It’s not like I didn’t have the opportunity. I see their every move and they don’t even know I’m here.” 

He sighed airingly before smirking deviously, “It wouldn’t be fair, how easy it’d be.They’d never see it coming …”

Frank blanched because he finally recognised just how true that statement was. He wished he could believe that he could protect his Legion with a warning- tell them about this sadist that would go after them. However, in his heart, he knew it wouldn’t change much. 

After all, how long had Ghostface been living secretly with them? 

How long had he been lurking around their turf before Frank even invited him to his room?

Meticulous and calculating as he was, he probably knew Ormond’s layout better than they all did. The man never made a sound. It was as if he knew every single creaky plank of wood in the whole dilapidated chalet. 

Now that he thought about it, how many times did he appear seemingly out of nowhere? 

Danny Johnson truly was like a ghost, but there was nothing supernatural about him. He just knew every blind spot in this place because he’d had ample time and freedom to learn them. This, somehow, was even more terrifying.

Even if his friends knew - how could they prepare before the worst could take place?

Frank had already led the wolf in Ormond. 

Ghostface must have seen how demoralised Frank was, but he wasn’t done. He must have really wanted to drive the point home, or perhaps, he was genuinely enjoying the terror he was inflicting upon the young man.

It was surely the latter, for there was such a twisted glee behind the dark words uttered. Danny spoke low, to make sure his captive had to concentrate to catch every syllable. 

“There are worse things than death, Frank.” His voice sounded deep and gravely, reminiscent of the early days over the phone. “There’s the kind of hurt that lingers...”

Danny paused a bit, savoring the involuntary shiver he drew out of Frank before he pulled up his knife again and let the blade caress the side of the youth’s face. He sounded almost uninterested as he mused out loud, his voice barely above a whisper, but the malicious shine in his eyes said it all, “What was your not-girlfriend’s name, again? Julie?”

The older man smirked at the sight of Frank’s distraught face, savoring in his fear before he tilted his head towards the hallway and resumed. “Her room is right around the corner, isn’t it?” 

He moved the blade away from the young man’s cheek, twirling it in his hand with a detached interest as he continued with that slimy tone, filled with intent, “I’ve walked past it so often. I just never opened the door...”

Frank felt the tears prickle the corners of his eyes again, the overwhelming mixture of fear, frustration and helplessness finally getting the best of him. 

He loved all his friends in his own broken way, he truly did. There was no way he could bear the thought of Julie’s torture at the hands of this monster. Not her. Not after everything they went through together. After all was said and done, despite all the lies, the manipulations and betrayals, she was probably the first girl he’d ever loved. 

How sad was that. For her. 

Frank could try to lie to himself all he wanted, try to cling to his pettiness after their explosive fight, but he simply could never knowingly allow anything to happen to her. Especially because of his foolishness. He’d done that enough already. 

Ghostface knew that. It seemed obvious now that he always had. 

The man had Frank tied in his web, he only wanted him to come to understand it himself and stop struggling. 

Danny slowly removed his hand from his mouth, a little smile on his face as he ran his thumb over Frank’s lower lip in an intimate gesture. His voice was so gentle and sweet, almost soothing, but those eyes shone with sadistic delight, “You don’t want me to open the door, do you, Frank?”

The older man wasn’t really asking; he already knew the answer. That’s why he moved his knees off Frank’s arms and simply hovered above his frame, hands on either side of his head. He wasn’t restraining him anymore because he didn’t need to. There was no fight left in him. Still, he was looking down at him expectantly. He wanted to hear him say it. 

So, Frank obliged. 

He shook his head desperately, “No. Y-you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” With pleading eyes, he added in a voice far more pitiable than he thought possible coming from him. It was so hollow. It sounded like a stranger’s, “I’m so sorry, Danny.”

Ghostface broke into a bright smile upon hearing him. He cradled the young man’s face between his hands gently as he cooed, “Shhh, it’s okay. I know you are. Everybody makes mistakes.” He was running his thumbs along his jawline and looked into his eyes, his voice was still as gentle as his caresses, but the unspoken looming threat still hovered behind every word, “You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?” 

Frank didn’t pull away from the hands holding him, he nodded in their grasp. “Yes.” 

Ghostface nodded back at him, visibly satisfied, and patted his cheek patronisingly, “Good boy.”

With a satisfied sigh, Danny released him entirely and sheathed his blade. As if nothing happened at all, leaped off the bed. He sounded jarringly cheerful and motivated as he clapped his hands once, making his way to Susie’s bloody remains with a pep in his step. “Well now, we can’t just leave pinkie in the middle of the floor for anyone to find.” 

He expectantly looked over his shoulder at Frank, his hands on his hips, “So, we’re going to do exactly as I say.” 

Frank wasn’t really listening as he slugglingly sat up and pushed himself off the dusty mattress to follow the other man. It didn’t matter in any case; he was going to obey regardless. 

Still, for good measure, he murmured. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I finally got around to writing this chapter because this scene has been in my head for so long. :')   
If there was any doubt in Frank's mind that Danny is a monster and bad for him, well, they're finally gone!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Comments and suggestions are always welcome.
> 
> ( I know I'm not updating as often as I used to, but I definitely want to reassure everyone that I will not abandon this story. My life is about to get a whole lot busier very shortly, so I might take a while between updates. Despite this, I'm very determined to see it through!)


End file.
